


Blue: Iris

by Mad_Hamlet



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Hamlet/pseuds/Mad_Hamlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the second part of Blue. This is Iris. They are on the run. Altered by The Reapers, coveted by those in power who claim to know the interests of the Greater Good. They will run. They will hide and from the shadows they will fight. Behind it all Green Eyes watch, waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue: Iris : Onef

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Present  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

 

Blue: Iris: One

 

“...get her on the table...”

“EDI, can you-?”

“I am capable of doing a complete analysis at your command, Miranda.”

“Scanner's up!”

“Do it EDI.”

“Processing, please standby.”

“Well?”

“Processing...”

“What's happening Miranda?”

“Liara, please-”

“No! Not again, no more pleases or outsides. Tell me what's going on!”

“Processing. Fascinating.”

“Elaborate EDI.”

“Under normal circumstances the amount of data from the scanner would require exactly zero point zero zero three seconds for me to process using only my most basic run times. I have prescribed nearly ten percent of my operative capabilities and have yet not completed my task. Processing.”

“What. Does. That. Mean?!”

“Answer her, EDI.”

“Without further data I can only speculate. Based on available information, that I will seek to verify as accurate as soon as the processing is complete and based on the massive spike- Processing complete.”

“Well?”

“This...this should not be possible.”

“Does anyone else suddenly feel the need to run and hide?”

“Garrus, you're-”

Shepard sat up.  
“Goddess!” Liara almost shouted moving to embrace her human- and froze.

The commander sat, spine ramrod straight, head up, she would have been looking right at the wall opposite the medbay...if her eyes had been open. 

“Shepard?” Liara's voice asked from behind the hand she had over her mouth.

Her human's head snapped to face her, eyes still closed, one hand shot out missing the asari's head by centimeters. There was a resounding crunch of plastic shattering and with no seeming effort at all Shepard pulled one of the monitors off of the medbay walls and dropped it in her lap. Without even looking in the direction, Shepard reached out with her other hand, grabbed a datapad from one of trays near her bed and, still facing Liara, casually ripped the back off the smaller machine. Hands blurring, the commander began to attach the torn wiring from the larger display she had just removed from the wall to the datapad. 

“EDI!” Miranda said very loudly. “We need to know-”

“The commander's mind has received a massive data burst from her implants, “ EDI responded. Her voice seemed awed, not the dry, polite tone she normally used when giving a report. “Through a process I do not yet understand, data from the machines within and around her brain, was transformed into neurological signals; these signals were than accepted by the human mind and are currently stored in the commander's short term memory. It could be conjectured that this data was a series of instructions.”

Garrus' voiced had a dangerous edge to it and he appeared to be choosing his words carefully, “Are the implants controlling Shepard?”

EDI was silent for a time, in the background Shepard continued to work. “I do not believe so.”

“And why not?” Miranda demanded.

“For two reasons,” EDI replied. “Firstly, the data has been moved to short term memory. Higher brain functions are not impeded; synaptic paths are not being overwritten. Essentially, the neurological 'fingerprint' that is Commander Shepard still is.”

“I'm going to pretend I understood that and just move on to the second reason,” Garrus said, rubbing at a spot behind his left mandible. 

“Commander Shepard cannot be controlled by anything.”

“Oh. Right.” Garrus grinned. “I forgot that part. So why is Shepard doing this Day of the Living Dead thing?”

EDI paused, “I do not understand the question, Garrus. The commander has not tried to eat- Oh. I see,” there was another pause. “The scanner is still operating, please examine Shepard's neurological activity and compare those with wavelength found in people who are-”

Garrus held up one hand, “I know how to shoot people, EDI.”

Liara bent over the readouts surrounding Shepard's bed, studying the results for a moment, “she said that Shepard is dreaming, Garrus.”

Garrus eyed the commander, who, having completed her assembly was now typing furiously at the data pad. Long strings of symbols, some familiar, others less so, flashed across the screen only to be replaced a split second later by a new sequence of integers, “You're telling me she's sleep...programming?”

Shepard's finger's froze, she cocked her head to one side as if listening to something just coming into range, remained motionless for a moment and fell back on the pillows. Liara pushed her way past Garrus, who had been standing at the head of the bed, she cupped her human's cheeks between her hands, “Shepard?” 

“The commander's neurological activity is now falling into what is believed standard for delta sleep,” EDI reported through the loudspeakers. “Vitals are well within normal range, Dr. T'soni. The commander will be fine.”

Liara brushed her forehead against one of Shepard's cheeks, feeling the steady strong breath run across her face, “Thank you, EDI,” she said.

The monitor that Shepard had torn from the wall now lay across her legs, forgotten. Myriad wires and connections still anchored it to the datapad that danged off the side of the bed, on the monitor itself a complex series of numbers flickered on and off, on and off on and.... A figure of chrome stepped up besides Miranda, reached down with one metal hand and retrieved the monitor. 

“You're welcome, Doctor,” EDI said, she bent to study the figures on the monitor for a moment. “Intriguing.” 

“That is really weird,” Garrus replied, glancing between where EDI's voice had been coming out of the speakers and where her platform now stood before them. 

“Try viewing the world around you through multiple sensors suites, including every possible wavelength in the visual, audio, radioactive and cosmological scale, with three-hundred and sixty degree internal and external vision along with processing ten to the fifteenth power data feeds and core processes at the same time,” EDI murmured. 

“And you find Joker to be suitable intellectual stimulation?” Garrus asked.

EDI shrugged, “Yes.”

“Joker?” Garrus pressed. “Really?”

EDI tore her attention from the figures and glanced at the turian, “I like bad boys,” she said completely straight faced.

Garrus started coughing violently.

“Hey!” Joker cut in through the speakers. “I am bad. You should see-”

“Porn collection,” Miranda interrupted.

“Porn collection,” Garrus agreed.”

“Oh,” Joker grumbled. “Is that joke getting old? Yeah, it's getting old.”

Shepard groaned, tried to sit up and had both Garrus' and Liara's arms at her back, assisting her; she blearily glared around the room, “Wha...what substance was I abusin' las night?” she slurred, raising one hand to her temple. Her eyes suddenly focused and her gaze flickered over everyone in the room; from Miranda standing on one side of the bed, to EDI, to Garrus and then she stared up at Liara who was supporting her.

“No,” she whispered, “not again.”

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head in denial, “Don't tell me-” her voice snapped off and she forced her eyes open, “Deal later, work now,” she muttered. Her friends exchanged confused glances.

Shepard appeared to study the others, “Okay,” she said to herself. “Miranda still looks pretty much the same, Garrus is that a new scar?”

Garrus opened his mouth to answer but Shepard's continuing ramble steamrolled right over him; her attention turned to Liara, “Never changing, no matter how long I keep leaving you-”

“Which in this case was under twenty minutes,” Liara interrupted.

Shepard's mouth fell open but she recovered quickly, “Oh.”

“Tell me you recorded that EDI,” Garrus said out of the corner of his mouth.”

The android cocked her head at him, “Everything is recorded by the security system. What is there about this moment that makes it significant?”

Garrus' mandibles flexed in a turian grin, “Future possibilities for fun,” his light tenor rumbled.

Liara stroked an errant lock of hair behind Shepard's ear, “What's the last thing you remember?”

Shepard swallowed, “Miranda. She came in and told me that-”

“I was informing you that I had made a list of supplies that we would require once we arrive at the asari moon,” the former operative interrupted smoothly. “Don't you remember, commander?” she asked putting emphasis on the last words.

Garrus looked from Miranda, to Shepard then back to Miranda, “Yeah,” he said. “That whole thing in where one person tries to stop another from blabbing by interrupting the conversation works really well in fiction because writers are stupid; in real life- not so much.”

Shepard gave the turian a half-smile, “Just how many of my movies did you watch again?”

“Way too many,” Garrus replied. “But hey, I learned how to survive a slasher movie and got to hear Liara's theory on how those types of flicks are allegories for sex, y'know, long hard blades thrust into female flesh, spurting arteries and so on. I was drunk at the time and it made a great reason to go all the way to very drunk,” he paused, sighed. “Ah, good times.”

“I was in a coma!” Shepard grumbled.

“Which meant total access to your whiskey supply,” Garrus replied. “Like I said: Good times. So, what's the big secret?”

Shepard nodded to Miranda, “You know what I'm going to say, right?”

Miranda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Something about being able to trust everyone here, and you're correct of course, commander.” She shrugged one shoulder, “Old habits die hard and... is it a fault that I just want to keep you safe?”

Shepard leaned forward, her gaze intense, “With these people here, I'm safe.”

“That include me?” Joker's voice spoke up.

Shepard rolled her eyes, “Yes Joker, that includes you too.”

“She rolled her eyes didn't she?” the pilot asked rhetorically. “I know she did, I could practically hear it. Don't tell me she didn't.”

“She did,” Garrus rumbled. “Now shut up.”

“Pfff, fine, see if I care. I'm only navigating us around stars, black holes and shit and I don't have any secrets. Everyone knows about my porn.”

“You don't have a porn collection,” Miranda said. “That's the secret.”

“Oh sure, just tell everyone,” Joker grumped. “I have a reputation to consider.”

“Miranda?” Shepard encouraged the other woman. “Go on, tell them.”

 

“Yes commander,” she reached for her omnitool.

“No pictures,” Shepard interjected. “Just spit it out.”

“Very well,” the former operative looked around at the others for a moment, seemed to take a moment to collect her thoughts and said, “from a biological standpoint Commander Shepard has stopped aging. Barring disease or trauma the data indicates her natural lifespan as ...theoretically endless.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“Dammit Shepard,” Garrus finally spoke up. “You get all the coolest toys.”

Then Joker, “Wha- I... Wow. I got nothing.”

“Kill me now,” Shepard replied, grinning. “I've seen everything.”

“Shepard,” Liara interrupted. “What happened? Do you remember anything from while you were unconscious?”

Her human's smile faded and she stared off into space for a moment, then speaking very slowly, appearing to choose her words she said, “I promised no more secrets and I'll keep it. I...just need some time. Can you all accept that?”

There was no hesitation as everyone, save EDI, responded with various affirmatives. 

Shepard slumped slightly, “Thank you, but what about on the outside? What did you all see?”

EDI stepped up to the bedside, “You produced this, commander,” she said and handed the datapad with the pages and pages of numerals to Shepard. 

The commander examined it for a moment before replying, “It looks like someone blew up math.”

“No commander,” the android replied. “What is written there is a ground breaking discovery of mathematics and cosmic navigation.”

Everyone's focus turned to the pad in Shepard's hand. 

“EDI, I can't even do my taxes,” Shepard replied. “There's no way I'm responsible for this.”

The AI acknowledged Shepard's words with a nod, “Strictly speaking you did not create this, commander. However it was your body that did the work. I theorize that the implants within your mind, for lack of a better term, uploaded the data using your organic frame to recreate the information.”

“They had control of my body?” Shepard's hands clenched into fists as her outrage range throughout the medbay.

“Strictly speaking, no,” EDI replied, her calm monotone a jarring counterpoint to the commander's sudden rage. “You were under the scanners the entire time, commander. There was no indication of intelligence behind the act. The information was strictly that- information. Not commands. The instructions along your nervous system came from your actual brain. It was fundamentally you who chose to share this data.”

“God,” Shepard groaned, rubbing at her temples. “They told me I had to remember how to see. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who?” Liara pressed. “Who told you, Shepard?”

Taking her asari's hands in her own, the commander said, “Later, please Liara. Just... a little while.”

While she did not pull her hands away, there was no disguising the frown that marred the asari's face, “Very well Shepard. I shall hold you to that.”

“Okay EDI,” Shepard said, turning her attention back to the AI. “So what's so amazing about my math homework?”

Letting the metaphor slide the android replied, “I believe this is how The Collectors were able to locate and destroy the Normandy SR1 despite its stealth systems being active at the time. It is a formula for tracking anything in space, either ship or celestial object, based off of reflections and disruptions made in background cosmic radiation.” 

Again the room was silent for a moment before Shepard said, “What?” and at the same time Miranda exclaimed, “That's impossible!”

“You understood that?” Shepard asked her.

“Yes,” Miranda said with a nod. “And it's absolutely not possible.”

Shepard folded her arms across her chest, “Explain.”

The former operative echoed Shepard's gesture unconsciously and paced in place, “The theory is actually sound,” she began. “The idea being that as an object moves through space it passes through background radiation. It'd be the same as tracking a submarine underwater by how ocean currents alter themselves around the ships hull. Possible, but the amount of data and computational power not to mention the variables would be staggering. Weather, wind, how every other object in the area would also effect the currents and so on.” 

“Ms. Lawson is correct,” EDI concurred. “But that is the brilliance of the work here; it accounts for and takes in account all the variables within the area of the ships scanners. It also does so in a way that is-” she cut off. “- the best possible term would be intuitive.”

“I am so lost right now,” Garrus said leaning against the wall. “But that's okay, I can still shoot things, right?”

“An analogy then, Garrus,” EDI said. She reached down, picked up the data pad and casually tossed it to the turian; he snatched it out of the air easily. 

“Consider the mathematics that were involved in that act,” the AI continued. “Your mind predicted the trajectory, arc and speed of the pad. It also had to calculate the proper angle and timing of your extremity, your hand in this case, to successfully intercept the object. Additionally your mind had to consider the viability of even attempting to catch it. You did this without any conscious thought. That is what this new formula offers: An intuitive means of understanding everything moving around the ship,” she paused. “I estimated that utilizing the program would require only a three percent increase in computational power for the sensors. I was incorrect- the increase is only two point five percent.”

“Wait,” Miranda held up a hand. “Estimated? Was? EDI, what did you do?”

“I have uploaded the formula into The Normandy's sensor suite, there has been a five thousand percent increase in performance and it is still climbing.”

The former operative fumed, “EDI that was not your decision to make, you should have asked us first.”

Cocking her head to the side slightly the AI replied, “On the contrary Ms. Lawson, I am The Normandy. I decide what does or does not go into my body.”

Liara started coughing and Shepard had to hide another grin; still against the wall Garrus hadn't moved but his left mandible started twitching slightly. A burst of static announced Joker shutting off the PA system.

Miranda stared at the AI, “That...was a joke?” she said hopefully.

“Hardly,” EDI replied perfectly serious. “Why do you- Oh,” she stared around the room for a moment at the others. “Ah, I see the metaphor.”

“EDI,” Shepard said quietly. “It is your body, I agree but I am the commanding officer here. I would appreciate it in the future if you checked with me first before any further such...upgrades are made. Purely for safety's sake.”

She AI's eyes tracked behind her visor, as if reading, “I see commander. You are concerned how my actions might have affected the ship, the possibility of traps in the code. You are ...” she paused then straightened to face Shepard, “you are correct Commander, Ms Lawson. I appear to have been-” again a pause. “Overexcited. This has never happened before I must consider it some.”

“Hey everyone,” Joker's voice cut in. “We've arrived and we'll be making planet-fall in fifteen minutes. Might want to get ready for some sort of welcome.”

“Ugh,” Shepard grunted getting out of the bed. “Let's do that, I've had enough of this room for awhile.”

 

 

The airlock hissed as it opened, light from inside The Normandy spilled out to pool on the floor; the figure silhouetted in the hatch cast harsh shadows through the gloom. Moving slowly she reached behind her, dismounted her rifle and brought to bear at the darkness ahead. 

“Of course,” Shepard hissed. “No response to communications, emergency power and no life signs.” 

She carefully eased out into the hallway onto the gangplank. Moving briskly she made her way across to the dock. Behind her she heard her two companions make their way to her side. Garrus strode to her right, his own weapon focused on the darkened end of the room within which The Normandy hovered in a zero-G field. 

“Are we sure about the 'no life signs' part?” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

Liara settled in at the rear of the group, “EDI does not make mistakes. If there is anyone here they are somehow masking their signs. There is nothing so far to indicate as such though.”

Garrus chuckled, “Never is, until they start shooting.”

“Keep it quiet,” Shepard muttered, “EDI, you picking this up?”

The AI's cool voice came through her earpiece clearly, “Affirmative commander. From various scans I have created an internal map of the complex; I believe I have located the central command station. It is not far from your position. Uploading coordinates now.”

Shepard's omnitool beeped, “Coordinates received, EDI.” 

She shrugged slightly, rotating one shoulder, than the other, nudging the armor back into position and reassuring herself of its continued flexibility. The weight, she remembered the comforting weight of her N7 armor and part of her thrummed inside. Shepard knew what wearing the armor and her weapons meant- that she was entering a potentially hostile situation. One that could quite easily end in death, hers or others with mad scrambling, screams, explosions and the roar of gunfire ringing in her ears. She shouldn't be looking forward to it, she really shouldn't. 

But the weight, the comforting weight of it all. Guns, armor, the helmet with its pads squeezing her face just a little to tight- that always happened- no soldier ever had a perfectly measured helmet. It was good feeling. Sure, there was problems that had happened to her, or at her and she had no direct say so, no way of specifically contesting those but right now...now the situation found her equipped, trained and ready to go looking for trouble...and shoot it-

-preferably in the face.

 

Shepard turned to the others. “Let's move out. Fast and quiet. Maybe we can find some answers.”

“Answers like, where did everybody go?” Garrus asked rhetorically. 

“Something like that,” Shepard replied, wryly.

“I am more concerned with how did they get there,” Liara added. “I'd be partial to the answer 'on their feet' myself.”

Garrus and Shepard exchanged a glance, “Yeah,” Garrus said with a nod. “I can see how that'd be preferable.”

“Enough,” Shepard hissed. “Let's go.”

The three of them moved silently down the dock, other berths lay beyond The Normandy, wide open spaces; what little light there was did little to penetrate the depths that stretched beneath them. A few short minutes ago The Normandy had entered the facility through an automated beacon. As the ship had approached the facility a huge door in the roof had opened revealing a shaft that had plunged deep below the surface of the planet. The beacon had offered navigation details, allowing Joker to easily bring The Normandy down, down and deeper still until the zero-g field had snapped to life, towing the ship to the berth it now occupied. During the decent repeated attempts at raising communications had been made with no response. EDI's own scans had not offered any further insight as well. On an impulse, Shepard had ordered a squad to board the station, one that she, as always, would lead.

The three of them reached the far end of the cavernous room in moments. Their progress was halted by a massive door set in the wall. Fully twice as tall as the turian and half the length of The Normandy. 

“Okay,” Garrus asked, back pressed against the wall, keeping an eye on the way they had come. “Now what?”

“One moment,” Liara replied. Working quickly the asari fished a small device out of her belt and slapped it on the door. A circle of lights sprang into existence, their red glow casting a bloody pall over their faces. 

“Isn't that the thing you used-” Shepard began.

“On The Shadow Broker's ship?” Liara finished. “Yes and no, it's far more primitive. This one is designed to access the internal components and provide adequate power so it may-”

A quiet rumble shook the floor slightly and with a groan the door began to rise up.

“-open the door,” Liara smiled.

“Move it,” Shepard ordered. “Let's find out what the hell is going on around here. I was expecting a welcome of some sort, not an abandoned base.”

 

Motes of dust drifted lazily in the shadows; moving aimlessly between the darkened consoles, held aloft by the weak drafts circulated by ventilation systems. The only source of illumination in the room was to be found at a large control panel directly across from the still sealed door. A single green holographic embalm winked on and off, over and over again patiently. Above the console the wall, lined with glass and projectors, curved across the length of the room. Dead center of the console was a single command and control chair. It faced away, towards the door; anyone sitting in it at the time would have been in the perfect position to welcome unexpected guests but the chair waited, empty and patient. Behind the chair the smaller darkened consoles made even rows all the way to the back of the room. In front of each of them was a similarly empty chair. Silence hung over the collection of technology, deep, heavy...waiting.

The sound of gears turning within the walls shattered the quiet, a rush of air through the opening door sent the dust motes corkscrewing across the room; a shadowy figure ducking under the ascending door, spun to its right sweeping its gun; at near the same time another figure ducked in and echoed the movements only to the left. 

“Clear,” Garrus announced.

“Clear,” Shepard replied. “EDI?”

“You are in the central command room,” EDI confirmed. “If you can restore power I should be able to access the base computers.”

“Acknowledged,” Shepard replied.

“She's so polite,” Garrus said to Liara. “She's got so many Reaper algorithms her infiltration-ware has evolved around there isn't a machine that she can't access. She should just say 'I will access' like it's inevitable. Much more badass.” 

The asari eyed him with a slight frown, “Do you even know what a computer algorithm is?”

Garrus grabbed one of the chairs and gave it a spin, “Well no,” he admitted. “But EDI says she's got more of them than anyone else and she usually mentions them only when she's about to make some really expensive super-secret computer roll over and play dead- and she always does.”

“Of course,” Shepard was standing in front of the central console. Unlike the others this one was circular. Providing nearly three hundred and sixty degrees of interface. The seat was in the middle allowing the user complete ease of access. The entirety, like the others in the room, was dark except for one single icon hovering in mid-air. It glowed a pleasant shade of green. “Just one button to push.”

“Bet you it triggers the self-destruct,” Garrus said, pointing at the holographic glyph. 

Shepard grimaced, “With my luck it wouldn't even have a countdown.”

“If it is a self-destruct and it kills us all how would you collect on your bet Garrus?” Liara asked.

The turian tapped a finger to his lips, appearing to be deep in thought; finally he said, “Well, 'I told you so's' are big currency in turian heaven.”

“That's the one with bar, right?” Shepard asked.

“Yep.”

“But if it's heaven,” Liara asked, appearing genuinely puzzled. “Why would you have to pay for the drinks?”

“Can we please push the button before we start a religious war?” Garrus asked plaintively.

Shepard slammed her gauntleted hand down, through the hovering symbol; the silence was interrupted by a quiet hum. Deep below the ground generators spun up, relays flipped and power coursed throughout the complex. In the command center lights from a dozen consoles sprung to life. Reds, blues and greens with the ever present yellow glow of holographic interfaces penetrated the gloom. 

In front of Shepard a display flashed into existence. An image appeared a moment later- that of an asari. She was, as all her species, beautiful, at least by human standards. Her skin was a deep, dark blue- so deep she appeared more of a purple. In contrast, flaring out along the lines of her face, above her brow, along the high cheekbones and the line of her jaw, bright white tattoos spiraled across her face. Unlike most facial markings that Shepard had seen, those or whorls or spiraling patters, this new asari's tattoos were mostly of straight lines and sharp edges. 

It was her uniform that was the attention getter. Most asari were seen wearing long dresses that concealed and yet accentuated their figures, that or the classic body stocking seen on the maidens at a great many drinking holes across the galaxy. However very rarely Shepard had encountered asari dressed in dark green suits; these suits in question were body tight, dark green and indicated that their wearer was very, very dangerous, and the asari in the image was wearing one- An asari commando, an angry looking asari commando.

 

When confronted with an angry commando most of the galaxy's opinion on best course of action is die at your own hand; it increases, but does not guarantee, the possibility that a relation of some sort will be able to identify your corpse. 

“Greetings Commander Shepard,” the asari said, trying and failing to smile through clenched teeth. “By the time you receive this message-”

“I will already be dead,” Garrus said out loud.

“We're not that lucky,” Shepard replied

“this location will have been abandoned. I have received orders,” the recording continued, ”and, despite my objections, to remove myself and my troops until your departure. Officially we are performing war games on the other side of this land mass. This is for the sake of plausible deniability should our involvement become discovered.”

“Understandable,” Liara interjected.

The recording went on, “Unofficially we have been tasked to safeguard a secondary facility, the whereabouts are classified. When you have completed loading the supplies just send the code accompanying this recording through the short range communication nexus. We will receive and know we can return to our duties. The facility itself is fully automated and, while our records have been expunged from the system, the proper programs for the purposes of loading cargo remain intact. We anticipate that the entire process should not take more than two days,” and with that the message ended the display snapped off.

Reaching up to her com-piece Shepard said, “EDI?”

“Yes commander.”

Looking around at the humming machines Shepard said, “Can you access the places' mainframe? It seems that it's supposed to be automated somehow but I don't care to spend the time figuring out the on switch.” she steadfastly ignored the smiles she knew, she just knew, that Garrus and Liara had on their faces.

“Affirmative commander,” EDI replied. “Accessing. I have control. Automated loading procedures have begun. Estimate time to completion being just under thirty-two hours. Commander, there is an inventory of what goods have been set aside for the Normandy, it is quite extensive. From foodstuffs to replacement parts as well as military hardware and medical supplies. Shall I send a copy?”

Shepard suppressed a groan, even on the run one cannot escape paperwork- which was what delegation was for. “Negative EDI. Separate the items by category. Foodstuffs to the mess chief, Engineering gets the machine stuff the infantry weapons and supplies can be handled by ...who did I assign to that?”

“Lieutenants Sarah Grames and Denise 'DD' MacDonalds,” EDI replied instantly. 

“So that's their names,” Shepard mused aloud. “I did wonder.”

“I must confess, I always had categorized them as 'The Door Girls,” Liara admitted. “Even their personal records in my files were somewhat boring.” 

“Play nice ladies,” Garrus reprimanded. The turian had taken a seat behind one of the consoles, his legs up, leaning back in the chair, one hand loosely gripping his side arm; he appeared for all the world as if he had let his guard down. Only a professional would realize that he had chosen the one seat in the room that allowed his to see the door without first being seen and that his gun, no matter how casual the appearance, was essentially pointing in the direction of the main entrance. 

“That reminds me,” Shepard said snapping her fingers. “One last thing EDI, have the ship weapons be assigned to Mr Vakarian here. He's overdue for some serious calibrating.”

“Of course commander.”

Garrus leveled a dead eyed stare at Shepard, “Thanks for that.”

 

Where before the dock had been quiet before it was now a hub of activity. Members of the crew moved around with purpose. Automated drones and mecha staked the halls bearing goods; everyone was shouting at others, ignoring completely what they were being told and demanding all the attention be given to them. The robots didn't say anything and therefore got a lot more done.

Garus had gone to start his inventory and Liara had excused herself to catch up on, as she had put it, 'long neglected data categorizing' leaving the commander with not a lot to do. The duties had been assigned, everyone involved was quite capable and their time frame was well within reasonable standards, this meant the commander had some free time.

Shepard was on the crew deck with the mess sergeant. 

“Are you sure about this Gardner?” she asked.

The older man punched up a list on his omnitool, “Sure as shit stinks, ma'am. These hear asari 'pear to have been stocking some earth edibles. We got veggies, fruits, synthetic meat stuffs-”

Shepard made a face, “Ugh, steak in a tube.”

Gardner shrugged, “S'not so bad ma'am if'n ya spread it thin enough.”

“On what?”

He shrugged again, Shepard decided he wasn't one for body langauge, “Whatever ya happen t'be eatin' at the time.”

Shepard signed, “Okay, so what else we got?”

He re-examined the read out, “Pretty standard fare. RMM's, emergency rations, lots of actual preserved material so we'll be eatin' pretty swell for a time.”

“And how long do we have before the vegetables go bad?”

“Darndest thing, commander,” Gardner replied. “They come wrapped up in these teensy tiny stasis field generators. Best I've ever seen. In theory we could'a keep em' ...forever most like.”

Forever.

The word echoed in her mind. 

'You're immortal.' The words floated out of memory.

Forever.  
Immortal.

Forever.

Stasis.

Harbinger.

“Commander?”

Shepard blinked, “Sorry, Sergeant. Wandered off.” she tapped one temple.

“Yeah?” Gardner shrugged yet again, “I was just sayin' by my estahmations,” he drew out each syllable. “I figure we got us about six months worth of fine dinin' and another two months 'of oh noes, not this crap again.”

“So nearly a year,” Shepard said.

“Yeap.”

A few seconds passed in silence, around the two of them crew members were hurrying. Some of them carrying large boxes of goods, others lugging crates; groups moving one way kept having to move around or through groups from the other, the elevator doors opened and shut, opened and shut and every where was the constant sound of 'excues mes', 'sorrys' and of course the often shouted 'coming through. 

“Beggin' your pardon ma'am,” Gardner said after a time, “But what zactly' more can I help you with?”

“I guess,” Shepard began, she looked around the ship, her ship again, “I guess I'm wondering how I can help out; if anyone needs a hand.”

The mess sergeant put one hand on hip hip and scratched the side of his nose, “Nawp, I reckon we got this covered. 'Sides it's my guess soon as we head out o'hear you'll be pretty busy. Shootin' things and getting' shot, probably some of them fancy bio-otics as well comin' at ya. You might wanna take all the advantage of the lull as you got.”

“Bio-otics?” Shepard crossed her arms, head cocked to the side inquiringly.

“That's my way, I'ma stickin' too it,” the older man said, grinning.

“Alright then,” Shepard replied. “That's good advice. Can you do me a favor then?”

The mess sergeant grimaced slightly, “I wager I cn'fit in a small one. Depends o'course.”

Shepard told him.

He eyed her warily for a moment, then choosing his words carefully said, “Really?”

She nodded.

Pausing to scratch his head he began nodding in acknowledgment, “Alright, gotta say, never did see that one comin'- never saw you as the type an' all, you unnerstand; sounds nice though. It's a lil' thing to ask for. Lord knows we got enough now. Y'know I do believe we even have one of them proper containers for just the occasion. Don't go askin' me how that happened' but I do recall seeing something like that down below engineering. Gimmie a few minutes and I'll have everythin' packed up, ready to go.”

Shepard grinned, lightly punched the sergeant on the shoulder and turned away before calling out, “EDI, I need some information.”

A moment later she was in front of the what once had been the XO's cabin but had, since before The Reaper War, delegated to centralized, non-standard, information acquisition and dissemination- in other word's Liara's room.

The door hissed open and sure enough, there was her asari, standing in front of the several dozen monitors; each one displaying a different type of data, graphs, charts, star-systems and walls of text flickered across each screen painting the room a hellish glow of different colors. Glyph, the small light-bulb VI was navigating the room, it must have detected the door for a moment later it was hovering in front of the commander.  
“How nice to see you again, Commander,” it said in that voice that always set Shepard's teeth on edge. “The Shadow Broker-”

“Thank you, Glyph,” Liara interrupted. “I'll see to our visitor.”

The information broker causally moved toward the commander, stepping well inside her human's comfort zone, looking into her face Liara said, voice just above a whisper, “How are you?”

In response Shepard took her asari's hands in her own and stepping back with gentle a gentle tug replied, “Follow me.”

Liara cast a quick glance back over her shoulder at the wall of data, “This might not be the best time, Shepard. We have a few hours of relative peace. After that though, who can say what will occur. Now would be the ideal moment to gather what resources we can in terms of information and-”

“ couldn't agree more,” Shepard said cutting her off. The two of them stood now to the side of the mess hall. “But as you said, this is moment will be short; when I was- at the last-,” Shepard tried again. “When I was dying up on The Citadel I suddenly had a long list of regrets; not those kind that couldn't be avoided; necessary sacrifices but the ones where I had had the chance and didn't take it. We're here for two days Liara; I don't want any more regrets. I know there will be required choices, hard choices in the days to come but right now, this moment with you, I don't have any.”

Shepard pulled her lover closer, embracing her asari she brought her lips so the merest sliver of space separated them and whispered, “So I'm going to take advantage of that and you're coming with me.

In an instant Shepard slipped out the embrace, grabbed one of Liara's hands and dragged her around the corner. The mess sergeant was there, looking his normal grumbling self, his face set in a deep scowl with just a hint of approval glittering in his eyes. In one hand he held what looked like a container of some sort. Liara did not recognize it as such. It was large, about half a meter across and half that again tall. It appeared to have been made of woven slats of flexible wood. A curved handled, perpendicular to the body of the container allowed for it to be carried either in ones hand or, she assumed, rather uncomfortably from the shoulder.

“I'm not sure what is going on,” Liara began. “Shepard what is that ...thing?”

“Than you Sergeant,” Shepard said, plucking the basket from the old soldier; looking over her shoulder at her asari, Shepard's gave her one of her thousand watt smiles. “Checking off a regret Liara, we're going on a picnic.”

END- Blue: Iris: One


	2. Blue: Iris: Two

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Present,  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue: Iris: Two

 

Far below, snaking along the valley floor, the water flowed around corners, gnawing implacably at the heavy stone walls around it as it had done for countless millennia, carving its own path. Rocks thrust up from the river bed, black fangs jutting toward the skies only to be ignored by the river's white water that smashed anything foolish enough to ride that treacherous current against those ebon teeth.

Higher up the cliff faces the first traces of life began; pale lichen clung to the rock walls; in the day these hardy plants absorbed the sun's warmth while leeching away the rich minerals from the stone. Still higher were the trailing ends of mighty vines that anchored themselves to the rock face. As they climbed, their trunks grew thick and heavy with age; smaller tendrils sported great leaves that would follow the sun as it arced across the sky day after day. At the top of the cliffs huge trees towered above all. Spreading massive canopies the covered everything below in shadow save for small spots of sunlight that would bob and wave across the dry leaves on the ground, the wind sending their boughs swaying. The trees towered into the heavens, even the smallest would have dwarfed the great redwoods of California both in height and girth; Shepard estimated that it would take at least a dozen people holding hands to circle one of the smaller trunks.

She turned to face her asari who was seated on the forest floor, the leaves crunching under her legs as she shifted her weight. 

“Whaddya think Liara?” Shepard asked, she spun in a slow circle taking in the scenery. “Isn't this the perfect place for a picnic?”

Liara eased herself back, supporting her weight on her hands; she turned her face upwards; mottled sunlight, filtered through the leaves, created shifting patterns of dark and light on her features. Taking a deep breath she let it out slowly, savoring the taste of the wind. The almost music of rustling branches, somehow audible and a stirring counterpoint to distant roar of the white water far below in the valley. She smiled.

“How did you find this place Shepard? It's magnificent.”

The commander was lounging against one of the tree trunks; the sharp edges of the bark biting comfortably into her shoulder blades, hands thrust into her pockets. Despite all the beauty around her she couldn't quite relax enough to be unaware of exactly how long it would take her to draw the heavy pistol she had holstered at the small of her back. Earlier Shepard had been temped to pick up a blade of the grass like plants peeking between the fallen leaves but had decided against it. There was no way of knowing what effect the local biology might have had on her body. She returned her asari's smile.

“I had EDI show me the local area she had scanned on our approach. After that she compared the topography with earth based artwork of picnics, cross indexed that with asari art on file and suggested this place,” Shepard shrugged one shoulder in slight embarrassment. “That last bit was her idea.”

Shepard placed one hand over her stomach.

 

It burned.

Her asari reached into the now identified 'picnic basket' and pulled out a grey blanket that had the N7 Logo and one red strip running up the right side. With a flick of her wrists she spread it out on the forest floor. 

She wasn't hungry.

“In all honesty, Shepard,” she said. “I must admit that I am still having trouble with the idea of you on a picnic.”

She was afraid.

'Hey,” Shepard protested. “I'm more than just a soldier. I've done things that didn't involve shooting stuff.”

The fear gathered, cold in her belly.

Liara, pretending to push back a smile, made herself tease gently, “Name three.”

“Cured the genophage.”

“You shot Reapers.”

“Saved Eve- sorry, Bakara.”

“By shooting Cerberus.”

“I stopped The Collectors.”

“I believe shots where fired during that.”

“How? You weren't even there.”

“Well it must be that or Joker talked them into mass suicide.”

Shepard, herself appearing to be fighting back a grin, strolled slowly around her seated companion; with her hands behind her back she took exaggerated steps, humming to herself, “I negotiated with politicians to form the largest alliance of galactic races so as to fight a threat to all advanced life, millions of years old!”

Her hands were trembling.

“And you wanted to shoot half of them,” Liara retorted.

“Wrong,” Shepard sank to her knees in front of her asari, “I wanted to shoot all of them, but I didn't.”

They had promised no more secrets.

Liara, in the middle of setting out the plates, paused to consider, “Alright,” she said with a nod. “That's one.”

Shepard stared at her asari; while she watched her lover pulled out sandwiches; these she set in the exact middle of each plate. Next Liara retrieved a bowl of fruit; the apples still crunchy and cold; the bananas glowing a fierce yellow in the spotted sun, all thanks to the state of the art stasis field. The bowl went exactly between the two plates with pinpoint accuracy. Each of them began to feel the uncomfortable flutterings in their stomachs of silence that has gone on too long. 

Liara glanced askance at Shepard while rummaging through the basket, Shepard herself was hugging her knees, still watching Liara. 

“That's one,” Liara repeated.

“You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren’t you,” Shepard replied.

Liara froze, “Shoe?”

Shepard shook her head slightly, “You understand the metaphor. That's why you're not doing cartwheels and whooping for joy; you haven't said one word about it in fact.”

 

Not meeting Shepard's gaze Liara focused her attention on the picnic basket. Reaching in with both hands she pulled out two bright red vegetables and held them to her chest, her hands cupping them suggestively.

“Oh look Shepard,” she said. “Tomatoes!” 

Crouching down, Shepard lay a finger across her asari's lips, “Please, Liara,” she said, “don't change the subject.”

Liara dropped the vegetables; she opened her mouth but no words came out. After a moment she ducked her head, “I-” then looked away.

Shepard forced Liara to look at her, gently nudging her asari with a finger beneath her blue chin. “It's been your worst fear for a long time,” Shepard said, “Not The Reapers, not Cerberus; even now with the real possibility of being hunted by pretty much the entire civilized galaxy,” Shepard broke off and grimaced slightly, “definitely the uncivilized part, even then, your worst fear is being left alone after I die. Isn't it.”

Liara swallowed slightly, using the moment to hammer down feelings of embarrassment she thought she'd left behind long ago, “How- how did you know?”

Shepard shrugged, stood up and turned and began pacing around the blanket's edge, “While not having slept with you as much as I'd like-”

“Shepard!”

“Liara, you have bad dreams.”

The asari's mouth dropped open.

“And you talk in your sleep,” Shepard finished.

The hue of Liara's skin flushed a deeper blue; she opened the basket once again and began to rummage through it, careful to not look at Shepard.

“And now,” Shepard pressed on, “I find out that I'm apparently not going to die- ever. The answer to your every fear. I was expecting, hoping really, you'd do cartwheels.”

Her asari paused, the resumed her task. Shepard pretended not to notice that Liara had put the plates back into the basket and was once again setting them out.

“Instead you haven't said two words about Miranda's ...update. What's wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me? What is it?”

Liara mumbled something.

Shepard stopped pacing and leaned against a tree once more. “Say again?”

“I said,” Liara replied putting the thermos back and taking it out again. “What are you not telling me then?”

Shepard fell silent, but she did not stop staring at her asari.

“You pass out right after...after we....” Liara growled slightly, gritted her teeth for a moment, “After-”

“You're that good,” Shepard joked.

Liara whirled on her, “You pass out, then in your sleep create a program that a living AI could not even begin to conceive of in the nearly half the time it takes to say so. You mention 'they' but refuse to tell us anything-”

“I asked for time,” Shepard interrupted.

Liara shook her head, brushing off the objection as dust.

“What are you afraid of?” they both said at the exact same time.

A moment of silence ensued, each taking a moment to process the words of the other- to ask themselves the answer to the question. Shepard looked at Liara, watched beads of sweat trickle across her temple, a dark tongue sweep moisture off her upper lip. Liara stared back at Shepard. Saw her commander set her shoulders in a familiar gesture that spoke volumes, saw her human looking down at her, her eyes soft, worried but her jaw firm and unyielding.

And then Shepard broke the stalemate.

“There are Reapers in my head, Liara.”

Liara's eyes widened.

“That's the secret, that's what happened when Miranda told us about....” Shepard waved her hand in the air, “You know.”

“Tha-,” Liara fought to swallow burning in her throat, “That is impossible, Shepard! A Reaper is...are...were... the collected essence of entire species somehow incorporated into some sort of artificial sentience.”

Shepard shrugged again, “And what if it's not?” her tone was even, nonchalant and relaxed which underscored her next words with terrifying significance, “What if they're indoctrinating me from the inside?”

Without warning Liara launched herself at her human, grabbed the woman by the shoulders and slammed her into a tree trunk, her eyes blazed with the darkness between stars and she hissed, “That is not going to happen!”

Liara's presence roared across Shepard's senses; there was an inevitability to her asari, what she could feel inside- shouldering aside obstacles, defying any hand raised against her purpose; and yet...and yet... despite all that, despite feeling her own self, inside herself, being buffeted and tossed in the winds of Liara's furious goal, Shepard knew, there was still the element of choice. She could block herself off from this melding, she could reject her asari. She could do as she usually did as a soldier, alone without assistance she could soldier on.

The choice was an easy one.

She welcomed the storm.

Without conscious thought, word or deed Shepard acquiesced. Later, when looking back on it Shepard would decide that it had felt like going deep sea diving by grabbing on to anchor- rapid transit down into the depths. 

The maelstrom of Liara's will spiraled both of them down into Shepard's mind.

 

The first thing Shepard recognized were the trees. The black and twisted branches, gnarled, stretching into an ashen sky like souls of the damned beseeching an uncaring god. The second thing she recognized was The Reaper. The God itself; its metal body, glistening, pearly pinpricks of light oozing across its carapace. The massive legs straddled the woods, extended nearly to either end of the horizon. Four great eyes, blazing a hateful red lanced down into the clearing.

The third thing Shepard recognized was herself. 

Standing in the middle of the blood red pool of light Shepard saw herself. 

She looked...Destroyed.

Ragged strips of cloth hung from a wasted frame. Mere fragments of battle armor, their fractures edges cutting into pale flesh lined her arms and legs; burns scarred her, running across her skin. Some still glowed with fading heat and the smell of cooked meat drifted across the field like a miasma. She held one hand to her side, from underneath her arm blood trickled across her thigh in a rich torrent.

Yet still this other Shepard stood tall.

Her lips were pulled back in a fierce snarl, she stared unblinkingly into the red lights of the two kilometers of nightmare towering over head and her good hand was raised in defiance...

Shepard blinked.  
The other Shepard was giving The Reaper the finger.

And there the three of them stood in the deadwoods of Shepard's mind. Shepard, herself and The Reaper. No one moved. It was a frozen moment and it took another for Shepard to actually realize that is exactly what it was: A snapshot. A fragment of her memories.

And in the middle of this tableau she heard, from behind her, “Shepard?”

She turned around.

“Omigod....”

 

Liara hung a few feet off the ground, the tips of her bare toes just brushing blackened grass. A glowing nimbus of blue light blazed from behind her- soft hues that moved slowly from the icy clear color to the warm aquamarine that promised warmth and life; the light rippled across grey trunks and twisted branches pushing back the shadows. She was dressed...if that was the word... in...water. Rippling from her shoulders waves cascaded down her arms, enclosing her skin all the way to her fingertips until crystal clear drops fell from her finger tips and where they struck the ground the tortured earth became green. From her waist the waves surged outward like the frilled ends of the finest of gowns only as roaring surf that would fold over on itself to disappear under the dress' edges until, as eternal as the tides themselves, the process would begin again with the surf edging out over her shoulders. 

Shepard stood there, her mouth hanging open at her asari, as the other woman held up one hand before her, one brow raised in curiosity, “Shepard,” she said again, “would you mind explaining what exactly I'm wearing?”

The commander swallowed, found her voice and said, “Uh...a lake?”

Blue lips quirked upwards in a slight smile, Liara raised a hand in front of her, turning it slowly first one way, then the other examining the fingerless glove of clear water that covered her palm. “Is this how you see me?” Liara asked.

“I...uh I don't know,” Shepard replied, with a shrug. 

“It's beautiful,” Liara said continuing to observe herself, “But a bit chilly and I'm not quite sure how to move,” she gestured down where her feet were still floating a good six inches off the ground.

Without warning the hovering asari lurched sideways as if becoming consciously aware that she was flying somehow caused a loss of control. With a cry of alarm she began to fall over when Shepard firmly caught her by the upper arms. At Shepard's touch Liara's feet settled firmly onto the earth- there was a quiet pop, like a giant soap bubble had burst, and the asari was then dressed in her armor. 

“How did that-?” Shepard began.

“This is your mind,” Liara interjected. “Perhaps my original...ahem...appearance was somehow subconscious? Idealized?” 

Shepard released her saying,”You're suggesting that the whole water motif was some sort of symbolism for...” her voice drifted off.

Her asari shrugged, “Perhaps.”

“Liara,” and a note of frustration crept into Shepard's tone, “what the hell is all this?”

Stepping away from her human, the asari looked all around herself; she took in the sooty sky, the dead earth and twisted trees. Without comment she walked around the other Shepard, her tortured appearance, still frozen in protest. Finally she turned her attention back to her human and said, “I do not know.”

Shepard practically exploded, “You don't know?!”

Liara held up both her hands, palm out, “Please calm down, Shepard. I...I reacted to your fear, that the implants might...be....”

Shepard ducked her head, shame causing her cheeks to redden for a moment, “I'm...I'm sorry. So...what's this meld thing? I don't remember any of the others being like this. A frozen,” she struggled to find the right words, “snapshot of some sort.”

Liara moved closer to Shepard, resting both her hands on the commander's waist, “I cannot be sure; I remind you that, despite everything I have experienced in my time I am still very young.”

Shepard snorted slightly.

“Stop it,” Liara admonished gently. “It's true. The Matriarchs have spent thousands of years trying to establish exactly what is and is not possible during a melding. I have read and studied a few articles, learned the basics but, even with asari to asari, the limits seem without end. Add different minds to equation, coupled with the fact that humanity has been part of the galactic community for so short a time, who can say what is possible?”

She gestured with one hand, indicating the entire surroundings. “Perhaps this is an amalgamation of memories and experiences. Or your mind is somehow trying express a problem in terms I can comprehend; fear, despair, weariness. I cannot say,” with one hand she cupped Shepard's cheek, “but you can. You can tell me.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Shepard stepped back, out of the embrace; Liara let her hands fall to her sides. Shepard moved to one of the twisted, black trees and ran her fingers over the scorched bark, “I...I know this place.”

Liara remained silent, she did not move.

Closing her eyes Shepard rested her forehead against the dead wood. “I...during the war...I had bad dreams.” Her words came slowly, as if they were being dredged up out of some depths where, down below, foul things lay hidden. “I told you about the boy I saw die?”

“Yes.”

“I'd dream of him, I would hear him crying. I'd want to help him, save him but he kept running from me, from that thing,” she waved in the general direction of the Reaper towering over the both of them. “And I'd run through these woods; all around me were shadows, they'd cry out- voices of the dead; people and friends who I-” Shepard broke off, closed her eyes and exhaled slowly before resuming, “friends who died.”

“Shepard-” Liara began.

Like the falling edge of the executioner’s axe Shepard's out thrust hand, palm out, cut her asari words off.

“Don't. Just don't, Liara.”

Shepard didn't hear her asari move, didn't sense her closing the distance between them; but when her lover's arms encircled her from behind, when she felt the warmth pressing up against her, against her will, something inside relaxed. Weakened. Broke.

The words came out in a rush.

“Kaiden, Thane, Legion, so many others. They'd call to me; nothing definite. I don't really remember exactly. I was so focused on getting to the boy; they were dead, the boy was too, I knew that but I couldn't stop myself from trying to save him, but no matter how hard I pushed myself I could never- could never reach him. Not until we got to the center of the woods...then he'd stop.”

Liara held her closer. It was almost over.

“And just before I could reach him...” Liara held her breath as Shepard forced out the last words, her voice tight. “He'd burn.”

Turning her human around Liara touched her forehead to Shepard's, “And you didn't want to share this because you thought you had to appear strong; we were all leaning on you to bring us through the fire, so you couldn't allow yourself to show weakness or burden us with your own troubles while we just kept on piling onto you.”

Shepard chuckled quietly, “That actually makes a lot of sense; never quite thought of it like that. Didn't think it was anyone else' business really.”

“No more secrets,” Liara whispered, repeated their promise to each other. 

“No, no more secrets.”

Sighing Liara opened her eyes; with both hands she took one of Shepard's and placed it in the valley between her breasts, “This gesture has great significance to your people, so I hope doing so now, despite the actual differences in anatomy, convinces you of what I'm going to tell you.”

“I like your anatomy,” Shepard said quietly.

The corners of one lip rose in a half smile, but the intensity of Liara's stare did not waver, “You're right, I have had bad dreams. Dreams...” her voice drifted off as her eyes went out of focus, “where I'm in an empty room- and it is less empty than me.” 

She shuddered, putting pressure on where Shepard's palm lay upon her, “And here comes Miranda. Her claim...Goddess... I wanted to cry, laugh, I felt like I could- and it all...it all was at that same instant and before I could you fell...”

Liara's gaze snapped back and her intensity was penetrating, “It all came back. How' I had lost you twice over and instead of finally...Finally...being all over- It is as you said yourself: When will it stop? So I have not been able to hope, Shepard. That's all. Just...I am not hoping.”

She released her grip on Shepard's hand but her human did not pull away, instead, raising her other hand Shepard cupped Liara's chin, gently but firmly so she could not turn away. “I had hope before Ilus, after the Shadow Broker and before we finished Cerberus. You gave it to me again, when I was preparing myself for that final charge in London, you made it possible for me to have hope.”

Shepard ducked her head, “I've always thought of as hope as something blinding; that resorting to it was a cop-out instead of taking direct action; but now, the idea of being together with you- Yeah. I'm going to hope, Liara. I'm going to hope that we can get through this together and I'm going to hope that anyone who get's in my way has God's personal phone number,” and Shepard's grin was something usually found on the other side of several nightmares, “Because they're going to need all the fucking help they can get!”

Liara's breath caught in her throat, a rising feeling of hard, warm light filled her; “Yes,” she breathed. Shepard, her Shepard- that inviolable force of nature that had captivated a young asari archeologist so long ago- had returned.

“Goddess, yes!” Liara repeated. “Shepard-”

The kiss was searing; a bruising rough thing pain twining around pleasure and gratitude and it was sweet.

When they broke apart Liara gasped out, “I think it would be wise to continue this another time-”

“Why?” Shepard's growled. 

The second kiss was like the first, only more so; Liara could feel Shepard's hands now, sliding along her sides, over her waist, curving around her back to-

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Shepard! We're still in your mind-”

“You are not welcome!”

The Reaper's foot slammed down sending out a shock wave that ripped the earth asunder; the tsunami of ravaged stone and splintered wood blasted the lovers apart and sent Liara tumbling, rolling across the ground. Instinctively she tucked, curling her arms around her head; moments later she came to a halt, rolling up against a fallen tree. Blinking the dust out of her eyes she raised her head- and froze.

The great red eye of The Reaper's primary weapon hovered bear meters above the ground; the titanic metal body was hunched low, it's insect like limbs alternatively curled beneath it or spread wide so as to allow it to sink lower. Liara's fear soaked mind chose that moment to recall a bit of a human fairy tale she had read out of one of Shepard's books long ago. 

“Grandmother,” she whispered aloud, “what big eyes you have.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to choke off the nervous giggle that she knew would allow hysteria to take over what little remained of her composure. The air began to hum, a deep vibration that caused the dust around her to swirl madly and small stones to leap up off the ground.

“Shepard,” she whispered loudly. “Shepard!”

The great rumbling voice, nearly took off the top of her skull and she pressed her hands against the sides of her head, “Primary Focus cannot hear you, asari. Instrumental data gleaned from biological processes corroborated with analysis of neurotransmitters stimulated through false signals in similarity to those that are used when Primary Focus focuses on your existence allows us to state with full confidence that you are the mental avatar of Liara T'Soni, mate of Commander Shepard.”

Using the log to support herself Liara pulled herself up right and stared into the great eye over head. “Wh-what are you?”

And it answered her, “This construct has been chosen as means of exercising maximum potentiality from Primary Focus based off of fear/aggression response for the purpose of facilitating acquisition of total cohesion efficiency.” 

“I- I don't understand!” she stalled, her instincts had her glancing around, seeking out some form of cover while at the same time her rationale mind, in a state of gibbering hilarity, was reminding her that the main weapon of The Reapers was conventionally used to blow city-block sized holes in...well...everything. 

“Your presence in this construct may prove detrimental in the acquisition of primary goals. However the opportunity for greater fear/aggression response from Primary Focus has now presented itself. Asari designate: Liara T'Soni will be expunged from the construct. There is a ninety-five percent chance that doing so will create biotic feedback that will cause widespread neurological cascade failure in the mind of asari designate: Liara T'Soni. Subsequent Fear/Despair/Anger response from Primary Focus will facilitate acquisition of total cohesion efficiency. 

The hum began to build; crimson lighting began to dance around the edges of The Reaper's primary weapon. Her animal mind screamed from within to turn and run, the dry rationale part informed her that the diameter of the weapon was far too large to escape from at this range and a final part of her mind came to the opinion that this was the worst case of overkill she had ever heard of. 

“You will now be expunged.” 

Then a familiar voice roared from out of the darkness of the black sky, “That is NOT going to happen!”

And Shepard came charging out of the mists. 

She was bigger than The Reaper.

The ground shook with every step so much that Liara again lost her footing; she fell backwards onto the fallen log, staring up with her jaw hanging open as Shepard pounded forward and body checked The Reaper! Her shoulder smash crashed into the side of the behemoth; a sound like every mirror in creation breaking at the same time as the blow smashed against the behemoth. With a scream that that hurt so much that she had to shriek along with it, Liara watched, through eyes nearly shut, as the ancient machine toppled slowly over. When it hit the ground the impact knocked her off the log.

Shepard straddled the broken Reaper, raised a fist the size of a battleship and hammered it right between the four unblinking eyes of the machine. The blow shattered the the eyes and their great, piercing light died.

“You!” another hammer blow, this one cracking the crimson disc, extinguishing the ribbons of scarlet energy.

“Will!” the third punch created an impact crater that would have made fair sized lake in what passed for the Reaper's face.

“Not!” her fist smashed through armor and into the Reaper's body itself while the machine screamed- the sound torn from the aborted child of a cheese grater and a broken mirror.

“Touch!” Fingers the length of a city block tightened around a handful of everything on the other side of that 'face'.

“Her!” and pulled.

Metal tubes weeping puss colored nutrients, components of bio-machinery, themselves literally convulsing in agony, clenched between her fingers. Shepard dragged out meters of cybernetic hatred mated with a giant snarl of wires, half of them torn apart hissing and spitting dark liquids that smoked angrily where they spilled upon the ground. Ignoring the pools of ichor that burrowed away at her massive armored gauntlets Shepard heaved the mass from the dead Reaper behind her into the black mists; when it hit the ground it rolled, tumbling, carving a furrow in the forest floor hundreds of meters in length; smashing hundreds of yards of the deadwoods. 

“This is my mind,” Shepard panted heavily, “You fucking machines, my mind. I call the shots and you will never, ever touch my Liara! Not in out there, not in here, not anywhere.”

“Agreed,” said a quiet voice. It was the polar opposite of The Reaper's tone. Polite and soft spoken; it sounded somewhat cultured and Shepard idly noticed she thought she could hear the faintest edge of a British accent. “The stress levels based off Primary Focus', now designated Commander Shepard, fear/anger response have successfully brought both conscious and subconscious into alignment. This unit has now been actualized by all aspects of Commander Shepard's self. Beginning phase two integration. Please standby.”

 

Shepard stood besides Liara, returned to her normal size. They were still in the woods, but they had been transformed. Where before the trees had been horrid, wretched things with bare branches now they stood tall, strong with lush canopies under a bright clear blue sky. Shepard shuddered slightly, “No sun,” she said aloud.

“I noticed,” Liara replied. “Just ...light. I also noticed that you were somewhat larger than I recall and had appeared to put on a little weight. Now it's gone. You must tell me your secret.”

Shepard's eyebrows shot up, “Ow, that hurt. Been taking lessons from Garrus?”

A moment of quiet settled between them; it was comfortable but fleeting.

“How-” she began.

“How is all...” Shepard waved her hand around vaguely, encompassing their surroundings. 

“How is it possible?” Liara finished.

Shepard nodded, “I remember every meld we've shared, Liara. They were...” again words failed her, “memorable; but nothing like this. Never... we were... one, I guess. I mean but this? This is from my nightmares. And The Reaper? And me? Getting real big and-” she smacked a fist into her palm.

Liara bent down and brushed her fingers through the blades of grass. They drifted and bent under the influence of a light breeze that had sprung up from nowhere. Standing back up, Liara said, “I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this. Though I remind you-”

“I am young for an asari” she and Shepard said at the same time.

Liara grinned at the timing, “Though I have been living in interesting times. However, as I said a moment ago, for the most part the ones who knew the most about asari melding were our matriarchs. Of course all asari receive basic instruction. Including 'the talk' when we come of age.”

“The talk?” Shepard cocked an eyebrow. “You mean like the birds and the bees?”

“This is one of your odd idioms isn't it,” Liara sighed. “If the context is correct then I will assume it is an expression for explaining the fundamentals of procreation and state that 'the talk' for my people is akin to your...birds and bees. But that aside I have never read of anything like this. I melded with you and yet there you are, here I am and this is supposed to be your mind.”

“My nightmares,” Shepard corrected. “But ripping that Reaper apart with my bare hands was a nice alternative.”

“I can imagine,” Liara agreed. “But still, all this here from just one meld; inside your mind-”

“Hardly, Dr. T'Soni.”

He stepped out from behind a tree at the edge of the clearing; absent mindedly flicking the cigarette hanging loosely from between two fingers careful not to let the wind blow any of the ashes onto his impeccable black jacket. The smoke from the burning tip curled lazily about, rising slowly in the suddenly still air. The eddies and whorls diffused higher into the clear blue sky overhead. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled and stared at the two women through the smoke from two unblinking, blue synthetic eyes.

Then he slowly exhaled twin plumes of smoke out his nostrils, took a moment to roll the tip against the trunk of the nearest tree, evening out the ash on sides.

“Hello Shepard,” said The Illusive Man.

 

END: Blue- Iris02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Originally this chapter was planned at twice as long but I have been very busy and it has been a while since the last update. I cannot promise things will get any faster but consider this posting a reaffirmation that Blue will continue. 
> 
> Just not as fast as any of us would like
> 
> Oh, and in case you're wondering, Liara's 'Oh look, Shepard! Tomatoes!” is in reference to the short story 'Trigger'. Yeah, I totally went there.


	3. Blue: Iris: Three

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue:Iris:Three

 

“Bullshit.”

Shepard's jaw dropped open as Liara stepped toward The Illusive Man and repeated, “bullshit.”

Then she glanced back at Shepard and whispered, sotto voice, “That is the crude expression humans use to express skepticism, yes?”

Shepard mutely nodded, then closed her mouth with an audible click. 

The Illusive Man raised his cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply and let twin plumes of smoke drift out his nostrils. “And why,” he tapped some ash off the end, “are you expressing such doubt, Dr. T'soni?”

Her asari began walking around The Illusive Man inspecting him from all angles. Completing her circuit she stood directly in front of him for a moment before turning away, saying over her shoulder, “An impressive facsimile, but only that,” her tone one of dismissal. 

The figure appearing to be the founder and leader of the human supremacist terrorist organization that had been known as Cerberus said nothing. Liara reached Shepard's side and turn back around to face The Illusive Man; tapping a finger against her bottom lip. 

“The real Illusive Man is dead,” she began. “According to Shepard's report she shot him, point blank and after put an additional round between his eyes for....how did she put it?” Liara paused and then smiled a wide smile, “Oh yes I remember- purely on principle.”

The Illusive Man snorted slightly, exhaled another plum of smoke, “You, of all people, should know appearances can be deceiving Doctor T'Soni- or should I call you Broker?”

Stopping again in front of him, Liara cocked her head to the side slightly, still smiling, “A valid point. As we are in the middle of a meld though, Shepard and I, that would make your inclusion here difficult to explain.”

The Illusive Man shrugged, “Perhaps I uploaded my mental signature or essence into The Reapers network and was brought into Shepard's consciousness along with whatever else was included when they altered her implants.”

Shepard shuddered at the thought of him being part of her mind but said nothing.

“Or I could be a symptom of her Id made manifest by trauma and the previously mentioned alterations.”

Liara grinned back at the man, “Shepard's dark side? I have seen her dark side and it is not a creature of hate such as the one you mimic. She rages at the injustice of being so limited and yet asked by circumstance and responsibility to be expected to do so much. She is furious with the foolishness that she sees all around her, yet committed to doing what she can to correct the mistakes, anticipate them and remove their threat beforehand; despite this she also seethes that she cannot rest and berates herself, hates herself in some ways, because she feels she doesn't deserve it and has failed for desiring it.”

Shepard blinked, “Liara-”

Liara turned her gaze to her, the asari's smile softening as she took in the sight of her human, her commander, “she is my hero and my fool,” the asari continued. “I love her for that, despair because of it and will protect her from it.” 

Her gaze flickered back to The Illusive Man, lips curling into a snarl, “and no part of that holds anything of you or your kind as part of it.”

The Illusive Man glanced in Shepard's direction who only shrugged saying, “she's got me pegged.”

Synthetic eyes glimmered with reflected light from the blue sky overhead; he took a slow drag on his cigarette, the silence strained slightly by the hushed sound of crackling tobacco. With a flick of his fingers the ash vanished disappearing before it hit the ground..

 

“Very good Doctor T'Soni,” he said with a nod to the asari.

“I do not need your praise,” she snapped back. “I do not need the opinion of- what are you? Having established that you are not what you appear to be.”

It shrugged a shoulder as if conceding a point, “I am the operating system.”

“Operating system?” Liara queried. 

“Repeating my words does little to argue for your intelligence, Doctor. Regardless, having been actualized through recognition the final protocols were introduced allowing for all this to take place, “ It shrugged slightly. “Admittedly initial exposure was to occur during Commander Shepard's REM state but you can't have everything.” 

A split second later it was pinned against a tree with Shepard's forearm braced across its throat, “What the fuck are you!” she hissed out between clenched teeth.

It appeared to gag a bit and choke out, “Currently...somewhat,” a cough, “discomforted.”

She eased up on the pressure a fraction. “Spit it out.”

“My secondary role is to maintain the function of the implants within your body and mind, Shepard. As I said, I am the operating system.”

Shepard stepped back, it staggered a bit but did not fall, “And what was that big metallic fucker I beat to death? And how did I do that anyhow? Was that just something you made up? A joke? One last trap from your master's maybe? Couldn't kill me in life so you're just going to fuck me over in my mind?”

It brushed off the dust from its suit in an all too familiar gesture, “That scenario was created by my predecessor.”

Shepard and Liara exchanged looks, “What?”

Liara attempted to interject, “Shepard-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Shepard demanded cutting off her asari. “How many of you are in my head? Why did you do this to me?

“Shepard!”

“A predecessor? What is with having all these god-damned machines stuck in me? Maybe I should just blow my own fucking head-”

“Shepard!”

The marine whirled to her asari, “What!?” the bellow echoing frustration bounced across the shadowy woods.

Nonplussed by her human's shout Liara lay a gloved hand on Shepard's shoulder, “I think I can explain.”

Taking a deep breath Shepard struggled to push down the surge of fury. It was boiling, right underneath, roiling up from her stomach promising delicious simplicity; destroy this, hit that- problem solved. Instead Shepard nodded wordlessly.

“The ...construct?” Liara raised one querying eyebrow at the operating system's avatar, its response of a slow blink was affirmation enough. “The construct was there to get you angry and frightened.”

“It succeeded,” Shepard said tightly.=, “I saw you, under that red light and...and the fear, the rage,” Shepard shuddered slightly. “But then I was on top of it...and it was screaming and...and...” her human's eyes glazed over slightly as the memory played itself out. “....I loved it, Liara. Finally I could hit one of those things. Beat it, crush it!”

“Kill it?” her asari whispered.

“With my bare hands,” Shepard answered, her voice a little husky. Passing a hand over her eyes the commander appeared to come back to herself. “Sorry, the whole thing was more than a little cathartic.”

Liara nodded, “But did you hear what it was saying?”

“No, I ...was distracted.”

 

“It was threatening me, Shepard, but before that it spoke of cohesion efficiency with primary focus. That was you, somehow a sort of connection was being attempted between this...operating system and you. I think...” her asari paused. “I'm almost convinced that your emotional response was what triggered that link and the ...for lack of a better term...system upgraded.”

The copy of The Illusive Man spoke up, “A simple but accurate assement, Dr. T'Soni. The system required recognition.”

“I recognize the face just fine,” Shepard said slowly. A dangerous sign. 

“Perhaps acknowledgment would be a better term,” It continued. “Your mind fought, Shepard. Since implantation your sub-conscious denied us validation. This system is designed for cohesion between the synthetic and biological. That was denied thus my predecessor took the opportunity provided by the meld to create a situation where both sub-conscious and conscious would be in agreement toward the system- that being the system representing a threat to Dr. T'Soni.”

“So,” Shepard replied, again in that slow voice. “The threat wasn't real.”

It shook its head, “The threat was very real. Had you not intervened Dr. T'Soni would have been removed from this construct quite possibly suffering lethal amounts of neurological damage. My predecessor estimated that such an occurrence would yield a successful cohesion of forty point zero five percent though that included a self-destructive response of roughly sixty percent. It decided those were reasonable odds.” 

Then demonstrating a simple form of survival instinct it added just a bit quickly, “I had no voice in the decision making. I was not active at the time.”

And in the same low voice Shepard simply asked, “What am I?”

Without pause it answered, “Commander Shepard.”

“I was.”

“You are.”

“Then why am I in this place, supposedly impossible according to her,” she gestured to her asari. “What are you? What AM I?”

Calmly the duplicate Illusive Man reached behind the nearest tree with its free hand, when it pulled its hand back it was now holding a whiskey glass, half full with the bronze colored liquid. Unblinkingly it raised the cup to its lips and took a small sip before reaching again behind the trunk moments later withdrawing a now empty hand.

“This environment is a synthetic mental construct using duplications of memories found in your sub-conscious. It was created to effect a change in your mind's acceptance of our presence through manipulation of your emotional state. It does not technically exist- it is a simulacrum of a reality.”

 

Still in that quiet, flat, voice Shepard said, “A copy of memories, so you can read my mind.”

“No.”

“And I should believe you because?”

“Because it's too direct to be a good lie,” It answered. “And your reaction to such a fabrication would be instantaneous and lethal...and that wouldn't do for either of us. That and it is beyond the ability of any form of technology to 'read minds'. The idea is crude and foolish. Minds are random bursts of neurological chemical and electrical activity coming together and apart in new ways that are entirely unpredictable. Overarching patterns to stimuli can be tracked, of course but that is elementary for even your species.”

Shepard's brow creased, the very picture of skepticism, “Yet you said not a second ago that this place was created through my own memories.”

The copy of The Illusive Man waved the hand clutching the cigarette dismissively, tendrils of smoke curled up its forearm at the gesture lazily spilling upwards to fade away in the dead air, “As I also said, that is elementary. I am part of your brain now, Shepard. All its activities must pass through the hardware that keeps you alive. The patterns may not be understood but since all the stimuli you have undergone are known it is a simple matter to recall what patterns of activity were based from which source and repeat them. The preceding operating system did not know, nor do I know, what your fears are but we do realize they exist and the patterns of brain activity that was the result of them. These we can copy and replay.”

Liara's biotics flared, with a roar the copy found itself hanging in the air, its arms outstretched as if nailed to an invisible cross, when she spoke her voice came in a snarl, lips curled and teeth biting through every word, “So you'll just have her own memories played against her until she breaks and becomes some form of puppet? For your masters? For the Reapers?”

Its spine was arched, the forces pushing just a slight bit farther than the human body was made to go, if such things mattered in this place; according the grimace the copy had on its face apparently they did though no such discomfort was heard in its reply, “This is not wise, Doctor T'Soni.”

“I'm protecting Shepard, to me that seems a well chosen course of action,” she clenched a fist and the power tightened around her prisoner.

“Liara,” Shepard groaned suddenly, one hand to her temple.

“Shepard, what-?”

“I already said, Doctor T'Soni,” It drolled, “My secondary purpose is to maintain Shepard's life. I am not a mere avatar in this place, I am the actual operating system.” A grimace jerked across Its features at the same time Shepard appeared to wobble, “and you are hurting me.”

With a cry Liara released her biotic grip on the copy as Shepard began to collapse; Liara intercepted her before she could hit the ground. Resting one hand on her asari's shoulder Shepard grinned through the pain, “It's okay, I'm okay- you didn't-” 

At the same time Liara said, “Shepard, I'm- I'm sorry- I-”

Coughing Shepard allowed her asari to help her to her feet; The Illusive Man's doppelganger, appeared no worse for wear- it stood casually, the ever present cigarette in one hand, its tip glowing a dull cherry red in the shadows, the glass of whiskey in the other hand, where light from that same indeterminate source, passing through the thick glass, cast small rainbows on the ground.

“So,” Shepard's voice was rough, “If keeping me alive is your secondary purpose what is the primary?”

A ripple of emotion then, a slight crinkling around the brow and those synthetic eyes, which had been boring into her a moment before began flickering around, taking in everything around them but refusing to make eye contact with her. After a breath it snorted quietly, “I don't know.”

“Wha-” Shepard began when it jerked a hand up, palm out; cocking its head to one side, as if listening for something began in a conversational tone, “You might also be interested to know Shepard that one of the functions of my secondary purpose is using the resources at my command to take in information regarding your surroundings. Ambient temperatures, air currents and so on. This data is then shunted to your own mind. The experience will be similar to 'gut instinct' only slightly more so.”

Raising an eyebrow Shepard replied, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Slowly, appearing to be enjoying the moment the copy of The Illusive Man, a creature that appeared to be residing in her mind and claimed to be some sort of operating system maintaining the technology that was threaded throughout her body reached up, gently placed the cigarette between its lips and took a long drag. 

Then it smiled.

“Duck.”

 

With a gasp Shepard opened her eyes; she and Liara were back in the clearing in the woods. Shepard dove forward out of her sitting position tackling her asari, flattening them on the ground. The split second she moved a sphere of bubbling energy flickered through the space where her head had been, slammed into the trunk of the tree behind them and detonated.  
The great tree shuddered and began to tilt, a cracking of living timber to rival the thundering of the waterfall.   
In the same motion that had thrown both of them to the earth, Shepard flipped over Liara, reaching for the weapon at the small of her back at the same time; finishing the roll she came up, the barrel of the gun pointing in the direction where the biotic attack had come from. Her mind flashed a halt command a split second before her trigger finger would have sent a stream of mass effect sped death through her target.

The young asari was leaning heavily against a tree. Scores of scratch marks sent a crisscross of purple blood to ooze across deep blue skin and patter on the leafy floor of the woods. Her clothes, at one time perhaps, had been a simple smock but the deep tears had reduced it to shreds. She held one trembling hand out, in Shepard's direction; biotic sparks stuttered across her forearm, between her spread fingers and, even though obviously barely able to stand, her heated gaze bore into Shepard from across the clearing. 

“Won't...go back,” she slurred. “Not ever; The Black Tide won't...ever take...have me!” she tightened her other arm protectively around her great blue, very pregnant belly that bulged from between the torn and shredded remains of her dress, “You won't have her!” Her voice rising in a great shriek, culminating in an lethal build up of sapphire fury.

If.

If....

If she hadn't jumped between the strange asari and Shepard.

If Shepard had not razor trained reflexes.

If she wasn't The Shadow Broker...

If.

Without a word Liara leaped between the two of them, thrusting both her palms outward toward the other asari, “Wait!” she cried. The words flowed rapidly from her tongue. “Clear water, I offer clear water and pure spirits! There are no shadows here, you are safe! You are safe!”

The other asari blinked slowly, “Clear water?” she struggled to focus, shook her head a few times and stared at Liara. Shepard forced herself to breath slowly, the barrel of her pistol aiming just over her asari's shoulder ready to take the newcomer's head off the instant she though it was necessary. In her opinion necessary had been five seconds ago.

“Yes,” Liara said, her voice soothing; she took a step closer. “Pure spirits. I still walk in the light of Athame my sister.”

“Light...” the asari slurred. “Athame....” then her eyes snapped open and, glinting with a desperation bordering on madness, focused on Shepard. “Her!”

“Human,” Liara hummed quietly while stepping yet even closer. Completely interposing herself between Shepard and the other asari. “ I vouch for her. She is mine.”

Shepard almost didn't twitch.

The asari's glare started to fade, she staggered and would have fallen if Liara had not closed the space between them catching the other in an embrace before easing herself down to the forest floor, leaves rustling gently as they settled; Liara cradled the other asari's head in her lap, “I have you,” Liara crooned, using the fingers of one hand to brush grime from the fallen asari's face. “You're safe, I have you.”

Staring up at Liara, but not seeing her the other asari shook her head, “No...not safe,” a moment of silence as her throat convulsed in dry swallow. Then her voice, a harsh dry, hard whisper, “They're coming!!” and with a sigh her eyes fluttered shut. 

It took a moment for Liara to process the words...and then, “Shepard! We have got to go! We have got to go right now!” The fear in her voice almost palpable.

Shepard had questions, they buzzed around her mind in a swarm. Thoughts flittering about with her having no idea where one ended or another began. Frustration and fear drove them, the picnic- ruined, The bonding- a huge category A Class Red What the Fuck Was That? Situation. Then there was the whole talking with a dead man, whoops sorry, now he's a Operating system insider her own fucking head! And to cap it all off, upon finishing their little jaunt Shepard had nearly gut shot a pregnant asari who, for reasons all her own, first attempted to biotically send both her and Liara pinwheeling off the cliff side but then started babbling about dark fish or something.

Shepard heard that singular tone of absolute terror in her asari's voice. All the questions, all the confusion and rage and frustration were cut off as the mental doors in her head came crashing down so she could re-prioritize. Liara was afraid: fuck everything else.

 

Without an instants hesitation Shepard slapped a hand to the com-unit in her ear, “Lieutenant Cortez, get your bird in the air; we need an evac right goddamned now.” 

It was a credit to her crew's professionalism that the pilot did not waste any time with questions or requests for confirmations, “Aye aye ma'am. Have your position. Will be air born in one minute, with you twenty seconds after.”

Shepard crouched down next to Liara, who gave her a pointed glance at the commander's pistol which Shepard still had pointed at the unconscious asari's face. Shepard ignored the unspoken request and replied, “Rodger that Lieutenant, have EDI prep the med bay. We're bringing home a stray. All I can tell you is it's an asari. I'm guessing dehydration and exhaust-”

Her instincts ripped across her mind and in one smooth motion she pointed her weapon directly up and rolled backwards; for an instant she was parallel to the earth; she began firing into the clear blue sky over head, up until the rounds perforated the stealthed figure that had been plunging toward her from overheard. An arc of purple blood shot skyward and the enemy's surprised shriek was cut short as the final three bullets rode up her throat, face and forehead transforming the dark skinned asari commando's head into pulp. Shepard's shoulders hit the earth and she flipped over back onto her feet. The asari commando’s body slammed to the ground right where the commander had been standing a moment before- what was left of her. 

Training her gun at the third asari, the very dead, third asari, Shepard took a trembling breath, “Holy shit! Holy shit!” She jerked her head up, glanced around, then looked back down. Her eyes were drawn to the pistol in her hand. Curls of smoke still twined upward. Her knuckles were aching.

“How did you do-” Liara began before cutting herself off and glancing around for other threats. Shepard gaze flickered from shadow to shadow in the forest behind them. 

“Commander!” Cortez's words buzzed in her ear, the urgency plainly audible. “I'm en route to your position, eta fifteen seconds, are you alright?!”

 

Forcing her fingers to move Shepard ejected the exhausted clip and slammed in another one, all the while scanning the trees very aware of all the darkness that surrounded her and the two asari, one who was hers, the other...? 

“I'm here,” Shepard replied, she idly noticed that up until the moment she had spoken, her teeth had been clenched together so tight that an ache now radiated across her jaw. “We've got company, Cortez, one tango down, no idea if they had friends. You read?”

“Aye commander, touching down in five. EDI reports med bay is prepped.”

The Normandy's Kodiak shuttle was visible now; the flash of sunlight off the hull as it flew just a few meters over the canopy. The forward thrusters fired, slowing it and then it rotated ninety degrees until it was perpendicular to the cliffs edge. Then it drifted closer, hovering six inches above the ground. With a hiss of pressure the swing-doors in the side swept upwards, “Scanning coming back negative on anything out there besides you, Commander,” Cortez's voices buzzed in her ear. “You're clear to approach.”

“They've got stealth,” Shepard muttered; giving the surrounding trees one last glance she crouched down next to where Liara was. Without being asked her asari slipped one arm around the other asari's shoulders; Shepard mirrored her actions from the other side. Bracing themselves the two of them lifted the unconscious asari to her feet and started moving toward where the shuttle hovered. The asari's toes dragged furrows through the leaf strewn forest floor making a quiet rustling sound, just enough noise to cover the approach of anyone else who tried to sneak up on them. Shepard craned her neck, sweeping her sidearm back and forth, alert for any hostilities.

At the shuttle Shepard said, “You and her first, I'll bring up the rear.” 

Nodding, struggling slightly under the deadweight, Liara stumbled aboard. With one last look around Shepard stepped backwards onto the shuttle and pounded twice on the hatchway, “Take us up!” she hollered. 

Veering sideways back out over the cliffs edge the engines roared taking the shuttle higher into the sky. Shepard stood at the entrance, staring down into the little clearing where she and Liara were supposed to have had a wonderful picnic. They hadn't had the time nor opportunity to collect their belongings. Even now she could see the white and red checkered blanket under the large tree, one corner pinned down by a still mostly full picnic basket. Lying across the blanket was what was left of another asari, the greater portion of her upper third pulped and torn by the weapon that Shepard still gripped tightly in one hand. Idly she found herself irritated, the the purple bloodstains would never come out of the material even though she knew full well that they'd never be back for it.

When the branches swayed slightly and a second asari commando stepped out from the bushes Shepard was not surprised. She watched as the newcomer strode across the clearing and knelt by the body. Fingers brushed what was left of the others crest, then she looked up at the shuttle. Looked up at Shepard and even though she was far away and getting farther as the craft picked up speed, Shepard knew the commando could see her, knew this surviving commando had been there the entire time and had watched Shepard kill her companion. Shepard knew, down in her bones, that this commando was looking up at her, hating. Hating a great, great deal.

Without a word Shepard stepped back, slamming one fist into the controls; behind her the panel slid shut sealing the shuttle craft. 

*  
*  
*  
*

There should have been stars.

They should have been whipping past the tiny window in the conference room as The Normandy slid through the deep dark ever night of space. Flickering, blazing, their light stretched out long to show the insane speeds the ship could reach effortlessly. There should have been stars out that window. With The Normandy still docked the only thing to see on the other side of the reinforced material that civilians mistakenly called 'glass' but in truth had a name probably several dozen syllables long, was the grey, shadowy rock face of the cavern the ship rested in. 

There should have been stars out there.

In the time since she and Liara had returned in the shuttle there had been a flurry of activity. The asari that they had encountered had been whisked away on a gurney to the still unmanned infirmary. Miranda, working with EDI, had overseen their guest's treatment. Liara had vanished into her quarters, no doubt to trawl her network for information. Shepard had issued orders assigning several of her crew to watch positions after having briefed her on their encounter. The rest had been ordered to double-time the loading. Shepard wanted off this rock and she wanted it now. 

With a sigh Shepard turned away from the window and sat down at the table; Garrus at the other end, slouched in his chair, resting his chin on the back of clasped hands; to his left Miranda sat straight carefully lining up a data tablet with the tables edge while behind her EDI's mobile platform stood near the doorway. To Garrus' right was Traynor and next to her, with The Normandy in dry dock so he was not needed in the cockpit, Joker. The pilot was impatiently drumming his fingers on the table, waiting for this latest in a long string of meetings to get underway. Between him and Shepard sat Liara; she stared at the bare table top in front of her, looking for all intents lost in thought. 

“What I want to know,” Garrus said, shattering the silence, “is what exactly is this 'black tide'. That's what our....” his voice drifted off.

“Patient,” EDI offered.

Garrus nodded, “Right, patient. That's what our patient said. So, who or what are they? Because right now we've got the alliance all over our asses and the rest of the races won't be far behind. Let's also not forget that whoever this mystery group that has everyone so worked up is is soon going to be on the receiving end of one of Shepard's famous butt-reamings so we can pretty much add them to the 'really pissed off at us' list right now and skip the rush.”

Joker opened his mouth to say what surely would have been some retort based on humor and inappropriate observation but Liara cut him off.

“Black Tide,” she murmured, not looking up from the table top, “no article, just Black Tide.”

“Liara?” Shepard said, the unasked question framed in the tone of her inquiry. 

Glancing at her human Liara managed a brief half smile before pressing on, “Black Tide is ...as far as I knew...a ghost story. Among the asari military I mean. Like boogey men; the source of a lot of conjecture and rumor with almost no facts. Until now I had only assumed them to be just that.”

Miranda cleared her throat, “I never heard of them through any Cerberus files.” 

That got some attention, Cerberus' intelligence network was well known by everyone in the room.

“Which is not too suggest here wasn't any,” the former operative hastily amended, “but if so I was not made aware of it.”

Liara shook her head glumly, “While The Broker network is a pale version of what it used to be I have maintained archives of all previous broker's information and there was very little to substantiate Black Tides existence. If anything the information there just added to the mystery. If we want to really know more we'll have to ask Tevos, if she even does herself or-”

“Ask our patient,” Shepard finished her asari's thought.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Shepard leaned forward, her forearms resting on the table. “Tell us what you have at least.”

Liara shrugged slightly and brushed her fingers over her omnitool. A data packet was instantly spread to data pads in front of everyone else. “From what I was able to glean Black Tide appears to be an ultra elite force in the asari commandos. A group of commandos' commando if you will. I went through all the existing rumors and half whispered facts to try and establish some concrete picture. From what I have gathered the news is not good.”

Her asari swallowed slightly, “If anything the summary reminds me of,” her eyes flickered toward Miranda, “Cerberus.”

The former operative's eyes closed for a moment, she remained that way before opening them again, saying nothing. 

Liara went on, “Please bear in mind this is conjecture on my part but I believe Black Tide is a...in your terms...black op. Their missions or objectives are kept to the highest levels of my government with little to no oversight. The implication being that they were allowed to operate virtually unopposed and unrestrained by any treaty or political consideration. Rights, articles of war, all that and more were to be disregarded all for the sake of the mission at the time. I have managed to find a few files where my predecessors speculated on the possibility of Black Tide involvement. They make difficult reading.”

“For example?” Shepard asked.

Liara traced a finger through the holographic display on her omnitool. Lines of text, the words glowing an amber yellow, scrolled past. “In one instance it was believe a pocket of batarians slavers were using a religious compound in their space as a base of operations. The temple was asari and had been built with permission from the Hegemony as part of an independent attempt to better relations between my people and theirs. The military report states that there had been a large increase in pirate raids comparatively and diplomatic talk between my government and the Hegemony had begun to allow for an investigation. Before that could happen though the temple was destroyed. A freak accident involving a hitherto undiscovered geothermal vent that ran directly underneath the area and spontaneously erupted with cataclysmic force. The resulting explosion wiped out the temple and everything in a fifty kilometer radius. This included the temple, the asari devotees within and a batarian colony with a population of several thousand.”

Liara raised her eyes, her normal sky blue skin turning a darker, uglier shade of blue. “There were no survivors and afterwords the level of pirate activity along that shared border of asari space returned to normal.”

 

No one at the table said anything as they took a moment to digest the significance. 

Liara swallowed, “There is more. Similar speculations, observations of industrial espionage that seemed to somehow benefit companies connected to my government later. Rival industry leaders having accidents, critical failures in prototypes, the destruction of factories or system failures,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kidnappings of CEO family members,” everyone at the table had to strain to hear the final words, “their children.”

The creak of Shepard's gauntlet as she clenched a fist was startlingly loud in comparison. “Bastards,” she snarled.

“Bitches,” Joker murmured, “all female, remember?”

“And now they're here,” Liara finished. 

Shepard's gaze bore into the surface of the table, her thoughts her own for a moment before she shook her head suddenly, “Liara, what was that you said about clear water? To our patient I mean?”

Her asari deactivated her omnitool with a casual flick on one finger and then, clasping her hands, rested them on the table, “It comes from asari myth. The actual translation of Black Tide in asari is Feket Grik.”

Shepard frowned in puzzlement, “Okay, I've not heard that much actual asari but that sounds very ...harsh compared to what I remember.”

Liara sighed, “That is because it is not actual asari.”

“Alien?” Miranda asked.

Liara shook her head, “Schism.”

Garrus tilted back in his seat, arms crossed across his chest, “As in a schism in your species? What was it? Religious? Philosophical?”

“No Garrus, it was far worse than that,” Liara replied. “Race.”

The Shadow Broker rubbed at her temples, as if stalling for time and, with a sigh, began to speak, “We asari do not speak of some parts of our history; fear or shame that somehow we will be found out, seen as weak. What I'm about to tell you is one of those occasions.”

“The Feket Grik was a rare type of flower that grew only on one of the larger continents in the southern hemisphere on Thessia. Thousands and thousands of years ago, when my people were at a level of technology equivalent to your own bronze age the asari tribe that lived there was mostly a trade empire and they traded the Feket Grik; as a product it was in high demand- simple application of its blossoms would permanently stain anything, even skin, black making ideal for clothes, clothes and tatoos. The fruits were highly nutritious and tough, able to remain fresh for long periods which made them as a bartering item singularly valuable as well. Finally, the leaves were said to have great medicinal properties and if dried and taken as a power there was...” Liara paused, not quite fighting back a blush. She cleared her throat. “It was a powerful aphrodisiac.”

“And this made that particular tribe wealthy,” Shepard finished.

“Unbelievably so,” Liara confirmed. “And then one of their leaders, an asari...her name has been erased from history...she is referred to only as Kef.”

“Kef?” Miranda inquired, a single eyebrow arching.

“The Blackness Found Between Tongue and Teeth of Nightmares,” Liara expounded.

Joker whistled, “You people sure get a lot of mileage out of your syllables.”

“Not really, Joker. You are forgetting that a great deal of language was more in relation to expressions of thought, shared information. The sound was connected to absolute ideas. Kef has no other meaning, every other word in the title, blackness, found, between tongue, teeth and nightmare, have completely separate synonyms in the asari language. Those synonyms are never, ever used when speaking of Kef.”

“And what did Kef do?” Shepard in a flat tone.

Liara was rubbing the thumbs of her clasped hands together, over, under, under, over, she started to speak, stopped, and finally got out, “Genocide.”

Shepard only nodded slightly.

“She decided that the Feket Grik was a sign from Athame that only her tribe was worthy of existence and so she declared war on the rest of Thessia. Of course being only one tribe her numbers were limited. She invested heavily in technology for the time. Her tribe was the first to discover and use iron for the purpose of war. Worse she was patient and smart; for centuries she worked slowly. Her forces would attack small villages, isolated temples, merchant vessels. The adults and children over a certain age would be slaughtered but those younger, the infants or toddlers, would be taken. Raised with her and the values of her people. When an asari of Kef came of age their hands would be stained black with the dye of the Feket Grik. I studied this time period while in school. The rite was monstrous. The applicant would thrust their hands into a ceremonial bowl of hot coals to burn away the outermost layer of skin, afterward would follow a pool of acid, a pool of ice water and finally the bowl of dye. After the the hands had healed the skin would be pure black and smooth. Without any markings to separate one from the other. In this way Kef sought to 'unfity' the asari.”

“And the pure spirit? The clean water?” Shepard pressed.

“The other tribes saw Kef, her ideas, her methods as a form of spiritual corruption,” she grimaced slightly. 

“Understatement of the year,” Joker mumbled. Liara flashed him a small grin.

“A counterpoint developed, the idea behind it being black stains on the hands meant something fundamentally broken, damaged and beyond assistance or repair. A stained soul. Sweet water and pure spirits being the opposite- open, welcoming, safe, protector, a....” her asari paused and caught Shepard's eye, “shepard.”

There was a flicker, not even the echo of a smile, but something gentle tugged at one corner of Shepard's mouth, “Go on.” 

Liara unclasped her hands, laying them palm down on the smooth surface, “There's not much else really. Her initial campaigns were wildly successful. Kef had acquired vast stores of very modern, for her time, weapons and had trained her warriors well. It was also of great value that her followers were borderline psychopathic fanatics; another factor was, as part of her belief that the rest of the asari deserved absolute destruction, she had created her own dialect of which the name 'Feket Grik' survives making her communications effectively encrypted.”

“And then what happened?” Joker prodded Liara, his tone strangely similar to an eager child, sitting at a grandfather's knee, demanding the story continue.

Liara said, “The same thing that happens nearly all the time, Joker. It took some effort but with a galvanizing threat such as Kef the rest of the tribes united and crushed her, her daughters, their armies, the empire that had been forged, the dialect that had been spawned. Even the Feket Grik itself was burned to extinction. If it had not been for the efforts of some far sighted matriarchs at the time, it is entirely possible an entire span of our history would have been effectively erased.”

“Wait, “ Garrus said, holding up a hand. “Now, thousands of years later your government, knowing full well this story of some asari ruling zealot, psycho, turns around and decides naming a super elite team of soldiers after this historical monster is a good idea?” 

Liara could only shrug, “There existence, which has gone on for who knows how long, was merely rumor and only recently as well. The oldest rumor is younger than I am as near as I can tell.”

Shepard leaned forward, resting her chin in the palm of one hand, “so now we have some questions.”

“Confirming this Black Tide is actually here,” Miranda volunteered. 

“The purpose behind them being here,” Traynor went on.

“Their intentions,” Garrus nodded.

“Do they deliver pizza,” Joker said.

He ignored the disapproving looks that were aimed in his direction, “Hey, I got nothing tactical to add here. I'm participating.” 

“EDI, Miranda,” Shepard smoothy continued, “what's the news on our patient?”

Miranda picked up one of the data pads in front of her and browsed the page with a flicker of her eyes, “I am not a medically certified doctor-”

Shepard snorted slightly, “Put me back together well enough.”

Miranda conceded the point with a graceful inclination of her head, “That was still more science than care and to compound matters I am not a xenobiology specialist.”

“Nor am I,” EDI added, “though I was able to successfully access the near total amount of information pertaining to asari medical care from the ships library such data alone is no substitute for,” she paused in sudden awkward silence, “the human touch.”

“She is stable,” Miranda picked up. “There was evidence of significant bruising along her extremities, lacerations to the bottoms of her feet and a palms but the main concern was dehydration and extreme exhaustion. Those are both being treated now. As of my latest update from the ship's system-”

“Four seconds ago,” EDI clarified.

“Four seconds ago, she was resting comfortably.”

“Question,” Garrus said resting his chin in one hand, “If you had to guess, and you have to as I'm asking, would you say the bruising and lacerations are because this young lady has been beaten?”

“Yes,” EDI replied. “They are systematic in appearance and layered. A swath of injuries all seem to be at the same level of healing, while another are more recent.”

Garrus straightened, faced Shepard and drawled, “I move this Black Tide be put at the top of our Shoot Them A Lot list of things to do.”

“We have a list?” Shepard asked, a half grin on her face, “when did we get that organized?” 

Liara leaned forward, “And her child?” she asked, changing the subject.

Miranda smiled slightly, “According to the scans she has a healthy daughter. Though I would estimate that her due date is very soon. Within half a year, give or take a few weeks. No way to tell without more direct tests.”

“Thank the goddess,” Liara slumped forward slightly.

EDI's chassis stiffened suddenly, “Commander I have an incoming transmission.” 

“From who?” Shepard demanded. 

“Unknown, but the signal appears to originate locally, so I would presume Black Tide.”

Garrus chuckled, “Someone wants an engraved invitation to their own ass kicking.”

“Put it up, EDI,” Shepard instructed. 

A holographic screen snapped into view, hovering over the center of the table. The image it cast showed an asari. Like most of their race this one appeared beautiful but the narrowed eyes, simmering a deep almost black purple, the too pale light blue lips with one corner pulled up in a sneer gave the open impression of predatory cruelty. The asari was dressed in the nearly skintight suit of common to asari commandos but where the typical uniform was undecorated, in this instance, three crimson stripes, beginning at the elbow, ran parallel along each upper arm to meet at the shoulder and form the shape of a red blossom enclosed in a tidal wave. 

In one hand she held a long staff, of a kind Shepard had never seen before. Carved from a dark wood, it was covered with carvings that were difficult to make out against the shadowy material. Glimmers of reflected light danced briefly on curls and concave edges that turned back in on themselves; giving the impression of water running down in a continuous outpouring. Aside from the staff however the asari did not seem to be armed; she raised her free hand and held it out toward the screen, palm facing forward and it took Shepard a moment to recognize that the asari on the other end of the transmission was not wearing black gloves but that her skin itself was what matched the color of her uniform. 

“I am Matriarch Uyiel,” the asari nearly purred in a surprisingly deep voice. For a moment her black eyes flickered across the table before settling on Shepard. “I lead Black Tide and will speak to Commander Shepard.”

Her too dark eyes flickered across the screen, seeking a response from among her audience. 

Garrus snorted, “As if you didn't already know who she was,” he drawled lazily. “She's just so ordinary, right? Another everyday human.”

The matriarch's narrowed eyes homed in on Garrus, “You I know, Garrus Vakarian. You would be wise to restrain your tongue as there are still a great many who seek Archangel.”

Garrus leaned back kicking his feet up onto the table, “Tell my fan club I'm always available, particularly Tuesday.”

“Tuesday's no good,” Joker interrupted. “We're fleeing headlong from the combined firepower of an entire alliance fleet, remember?”

“Ah,” Garrus replied, hand raised, “but that was last Tuesday, I'm talking about next Tuesday.”

“Right,” Joker said, drawing out the word.

Uyiel's lips curled in a sneer, “Your candor will get you killed, Vakarian. Soon, I promise.”

With a thump the turian's booted feet hit the floor, sitting up straight, “Lots of people have spoken to me about my candor, lady,” he stated, thrusting a finger at the image, “but they underestimated my cunning, my capabilities and my...uh...my....”

“Commitment,” Miranda coughed into one fist.

“Commitment,” Garrus grinned, “yeah I like that.”

Shepard cleared her throat and everything stopped.

Her teeth flashing in a hard white against deep blue, the matriarch turned her attention to the commander. 

“Commander, at last we meet. I have heard many things about you.”

Shepard said nothing. 

With only a hint of a pause the asari continued, “It has come to my attention that you recently came into possession of something that does not belong to you. In fact, what you now possess is my property.”

She broke off, as if expecting some outburst.

Shepard said nothing.

“I want it back.”

Shepard said nothing.

The matriarch appeared nonplussed, “It would be in your own best interests to return it to me.”

Shepard raised a single eyebrow, but still remained silent.

Uyiel's smirk dropped, a slight tension now audible in her tone, “I am in no mood for games, Commander. Here are my demands: At sunset this day you, alone, will come to coordinates that are being sent along with this transmission. You will come with my property and return it to me; afterwords you will be allowed to return to your vessel and depart from this world.”

Shepard remained still.

The matriarch's lips curled into a vicious grin, “You have my word.”

Shepard said nothing.

“However if you fail to act as instructed,” Uyiel continued. “the consequences will fall not just upon you but all that stand by you. And these consequences will neither be swift, nor merciful.”

Shepard said nothing.

“And just to prove that these are no empty threats....” the matriarch thumbed a command on her own omnitool.

“Commander,” EDI said, a note of alarm in her voice. “I am detecting a power build up- a CPU has just been activated. The programs are- I have lost control of the clamps...my own command over the base computers have been removed.”

The matriarch's grin was positively vulpine, “And there you will stay, Commander to await my pleasure unless you do as your are told. Otherwise, one hour after sunset my sisters will sweep aboard your crippled bird and butcher everything and everyone they find there.”

She paused and light glittered across her dark eyes, “I trust we have an understanding?”

Shepard shrugged a single shoulder, “Sure.”

“Excellent, I look forward-”

Shepard cut the channel with a gesture before turning to EDI, “You can hack into this other program I'm guessing.”

EDI's face did not actually change expression but the way she held herself just screamed wounded pride, “Before it had even fully come online, Commander. This includes accessing the monitoring systems that are watching the ship and communications from and to off-world. We can leave at any time.”

“Nice,” Shepard replied with a grin. “We're mobile and they have no idea.”

“We still don't know what they're doing here,” Garrus interjected. 

“Does it matter?” Miranda asked.

“Miranda!” Liara exclaimed. “They were holding our patient prisoner!”

Miranda didn't blink, “I'm sorry Liara, but for all we know they might have a legitimate reason. There could be a prison here, holding particularly violent inmates away from the rest of your society. Black Tide might be assigned here by your government to maintain watch over them.”

“If the Matriarch's assembly had a secret prison complex they'd have to find a way to keep its existence unknown to me,” Liara responded, her tone implying in crystal clear terms how unlikely that was. 

“There's also how she was speaking,” Specialist Traynor added. “Words like something, not someone, and calling that poor girl her 'property'. 

“Noticed that too did you?” Garrus asked. 

Traynor nodded, visibly shuddering slightly.

“Also, gentle reminder,” Joker continued, “systematic beatings. Not very nice.”

“The last time Shepard met a warden who talked like that she wound up shooting him a lot, freeing a card-carrying biotic juggernaut wrapped up in a sixty kilo body with almost no hair and blowing up a small space station all in the space of one afternoon,” Garrus said. A pause and added, “I helped with the shooting part.”

 

“We have to wake her,” Shepard said grimly.

Liara sat bolt upright, “What? No-”

Shepard held up a hand cutting off her asari's protests, “We need to know, Liara. What are this Black Tide exactly. How long have they been here? What is their mission. Numbers, weapons, anything she's seen, why they have her. We need to know these things and there's not a lot of time.”

“But-”

Miranda said, “you know she's right.”

Slumping slightly Liara nodded.

“Uh, Commander?” Traynor hedged, “if I may?”

Shepard gave her the go ahead with a nod.

“Considering this patient has seen you and Doctor T'Soni in a somewhat...hostile situation and she's reacted poorlyit might not be the best idea for either of you two to do the actual interviewing.”

“Volunteering, specialist?” Shepard asked. “Interrogation is not your field.”

“But this isn't an interrogation; we're asking her help and as far as appearances go I'm fairly harmless looking.”

Garrus chuckled, “I'm adding that one to my list of famous last words.”

“What?”

“Specialist, I've seen you play chess; I'm not going to turn my back on you, ever.”

Traynor glanced down at her lap, “Uh, I'll...take that as a compliment.”

“Do,” the turian said around his grin.

“So, about my suggestion?” Traynor said turning to face her commander.

Shepard stood up soon followed by everyone else seated around the table, “After you, specialist.”

 

The door to the medical bay hissed open. At the far end, on one of the beds, lay the asari patient. The quiet sounds of the rest of the ship were muted somewhat; and even with EDI's actual self behind a door in the back, there was a hushed quality to the room, a place that was different from every other part of the ship. 

Traynor stepped across the threshold, her gaze focused at the empty desk which, during The Reaper War, Doctor Chakwas had always been sitting, ready to lend aid any way she could; be it as a doctor, a confidant, or a friend; which also included being a surprisingly good opponent in Traynor's favorite game, even giving it a twist of her own that the specialist had never tried before.

“No,” Traynor said to herself in a quiet voice, “never going to try Serrice Brandy shots-chess again. Thanks.”

“Did you say something, specialist?” EDI's voice came through the com.

“Sorry EDI, just ...memories.”

“I see,” EDI replied and then after a moment, “I miss Doctor Chakwas as well.”

Traynor strode across the bay toward the bed where lay the asari maiden. “What's her condition, EDI?”

“The automated system introduced a counter-agent to the sedative a few minutes ago; she should merely sleeping now and will awaken if enough stimulus is administered.”

“Stimulus,” Traynor repeated. “You could just say 'make a loud noise'.

“I'm a professional,” EDI answered wryly. 

Rolling her eyes Traynor stepped up besides the bed and got her first good look at The Normandy's 'guest'.

The asair was young, that much was apparent. Though with lying down it made estimated her height difficult there was some sort of air of frailty about her. She lay under a simple alliance blue blanket; her clothes had been replaced with a gown that was the universal teal green color of medical services everywhere. She lay on her back, as her obvious pregnancy made any other position impossible. One arm was bent to curve under the swelling of her belly, an unconscious gesture of affection and defense. Her other arm lay at her side, the hand hanging free over open air off the edge of the bed. 

Traynor stepped closer taking in the details; upon closer inspection the patient's wounds were very apparent. Mottled splotches of darker shadow marred the even natural coloring of her light blue skin; along her open palm were multiple lines showing where sharp somethings had sliced into the palm of her hand and around her throat was an even band of dark blue, a bruise that ran around her entire neck. 

Traynor leaned down close, her eyes tracking the curve of the asari's neck and the bruise that ran around it.

“A collar,” she breathed, a quiet whisper audible only to the air beside her.

And to the asari.

In a blur of motion the asari twisted over onto her side, clapping her hands on both of Traynor's temples; her eyes opened and the dim overhead lights gleamed off of two ebon orbs.

The asari's lips curled into a sneer.

And specialist Traynor started screaming.

END


	4. Iris: four

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents  
A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

Blue: Iris: Four

 

Shepard was across the infirmary in several long steps, moving with such speed that she left the rest of the command crew gaping in the doorway. She neared the bed where, sandwiched between her palms, the snarling, ebon-eyed asari was doing...something...to Specialist Traynor.

It didn't look pleasant. 

The young human woman had staggered to one knee- her scream of agony cut off, but her mouth still hanging open. Moving at a flat run, Shepard raised one fist to bring down in overhand smash right on the crest of the blue skinned female. Skin tightened across rough knuckles, teeth grit in anticipation of the shock; the fist whistled through the air with all the strength and fury of outrage and vengeance -

Traynor flung herself across the asari, crying out, “Stop!”

\- stopping the blow centimeters from smashing right between the specialist's large brown eyes.

Shepard froze. “Specialist, are you- what the hell-"

Traynor's eyes nearly crossed staring at the fist a hairsbreadth from her. She was pale, her normally chocolate colored skin the wretched hue of tea with too much milk added. Mottled spots along her cheeks showed where blue fingers had pressed cruelly into delicate flesh. 

“P-please, Commander,” she stuttered. “Just...don't. Please.”

The asari writhed beneath the young crew member, black eyes still gleaming. Mewling cries seeped from between clenched teeth, and a trickle of dark blood ran from her lower lip, where canines had torn into the soft flesh. Her hands, no longer grasping at Traynor's face, clenched and unclenched, vainly pulling, twisting at the bed sheets.

Shifting her attention back to the patient, Traynor leaned back and pressed the palm of one hand on the asari's forehead. If she noticed how badly her hand was trembling, she made no reaction that Shepard could see.

“Hush,” the specialist breathed. “Hush.” 

Closing her eyes, she visibly gathered herself and, without a trace of accent, began to sing, “Ari naaviye, ari naaviye, feriva usi' naan nanii....”

The words flowed from between her dark lips, not just audibly, but almost curling themselves within Shepard's mind. A sense of heavy, soft comfort carried along with them. The tune was deep, slow, with the tolling grace of ancient, steady and gentle solidity behind it. 

Shepard felt a hand at her elbow and glanced over to see Liara, her own blue eyes wide, moving up to stand beside her. Her asari took a moment to gaze upon the sight before her, and then, Shepard felt the shock of a tingle along her neck where her hairs were standing up, Liara joined Traynor in song. 

Echoing the words a half measure behind Traynor's, Liara's tune was a high and elegant counterpoint. It triggered imagined vistas in Shepard's mind of mountain creeks, shallow and fast, with cool, water gurgling and bubbling pleasantly as bright sunlight shone off rocks just beneath the surface. All around, reflections of lights danced and bobbed off the thick, strong trunks of a mighty forest. If Liara's harmony was the creek, the specialist's melody was the forest itself; rooted, strong and old, but vibrant in life, knowing for centuries the burbling of the tiny stream and the pattern of the wind through the branches overhead. Spring and forest, root and wind, water and sun- each a separate piece of something greater, each nothing at all without the other. 

“Ari-”   
“Ari-”

“ naaviye-”

“Ari-”  
“Ari-”

“ naaviye-”

 

“Feriva usi' naan nanii.”

Their voices sang in harmony for the last words, holding their respective, contrasting notes for a beat, a moment, a forever... only to fade away, leaving Traynor still kneeling beside the bed and Shepard standing with Liara beside her. The only sign of her true feelings the tight, near painful grip she had on her human's elbow. Between them, the as of yet unnamed asari was asleep. Features that had been twisted in the grip of terror were now relaxed and, in the peaceful act of rest, beautiful and innocent. Steady and strong breaths whispered in and out as her chest rose and fell. Wordlessly, Traynor stood up, gently tugged the blanket from out underneath blue arms, and pulled it up to the asari's chin, smoothing it out in the same motion. Then, she leaned forward, brushing her lips across the asari's forehead. 

Liara stepped around Shepard. “You surprise me, specialist,” she said quietly. “I was unaware that you spoke any of the dialects of asari or knew of our bedtimes songs.”

“What-” Shepard started, but shut her mouth after Liara shot her a 'look'. 

Traynor looked up and stared at Liara for a moment before her gaze flickered between Shepard and Liara.

She blinked. 

Stared at them a few more seconds.

Blinked again.

“I...” her voice drifted away.

Then, “I don't...I don't speak...” the words came out slowly. 

Finally, she smiled at them. A small thing. Cute and secretive. A five year old girl's smile who has, for the first time in her life, a secret, “but I don't speak asari, Liara.”

And then-

Traynor fell to her knees, lunged under the nearby desk and clawed madly for the stainless steel garbage can before vomiting into it. She fell over onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest, one hand clasped over her stained mouth in an attempt to stifle the gasping sobs being wrenched from her. 

“Traynor!!” Liara cried.

“The hell?” Garus shouted.

Shepard was next to the specialist instantly. “Traynor what's-”

“Let me,” Liara interrupted, moving to embrace the younger woman. Pulling Traynor into her arms, Liara began to rock gently back and forth. Shepard carefully nudged the can with its contents out of reach and possible accidents before crouching down in front of Traynor and Liara; the former with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears streaming down her cheeks making them shine in the harsh, white light. 

“Traynor,” Shepard repeated quietly.

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgodohgohdohgohdohgohdohgod," [ the specialist chanted from between clenched fingers.

“Hey,” Shepard said, snapping her fingers in front of the younger woman's face, “I need you to tell me-”

Traynor's sobbing shut off, her features twisted like someone had flipped a switch in her head labeled 'terrible grief' over to 'murderous rage'.

“You have no idea what they did to her!” Her brown eyes flashed as rage fire burned within. “Tell me you're going to kill them!”

“Promise me." Her lips curled around each word in a vicious snarl, and despite the fact that Traynor was whispering, Shepard could plainly hear the absolute hatred drowning every syllable. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about, specialist,” Shepard replied, not breaking eye contact. She noticed idly that Liara had shifted her grip so, if necessary, her embrace of comfort could become a grip of containment. “And I'm not about to make a promise that could wind up being murder.”

Traynor shifted her attention to Liara, looking up at the asari still holding her beseechingly. “Liara, please- they have to pay. Make Shepard-”

Liara cut off the specialist's words with two fingers on her lips. “I cannot force the Commander to do anything.” She stared into the young woman's too large eyes, dilated to the point where the darkness was nearly swallowing all else, “and that is not the issue now. You must breathe.”

“But-” Traynor insisted.

“Those are not your memories, specialist,” Liara cut her off again. “They were forced upon you. Build a wall in your mind. Remember that you are remembering someone else's experiences.”

“But you don't understand what they did to her!” Traynor cried.

“Who are 'they'?” Garrus said, crouching down next to them.

“Marauder!” Traynor screamed, and with a speed born of panic, her clenched fist whistled toward the turian's face.

Garrus caught the blow without blinking.

“So 'they' were The Reapers,” he said without any change in inflection. “That's one question answered. The next one being: What is it The Reapers did to the asari over there.” His voice took a harder edge. “The asari who is not you, specialist.”

Traynor's mouth sagged open, then shut again. She swallowed convulsively. “Garrus I-”

“It's all right,” Garrus interrupted He gently held her fist between his two palms. “Now listen to Liara. Do that mental wall thing, all right? I enjoy your company far too much to have to worry about a punch to the face every time you step into a room.”

“Okay.” Traynor's attempt at smile was closer to a caricature, “okay,”

She closed her eyes. “It's...it's not memories exactly,” she said, and inhaled slowly.

“Deeper, yes?” Liara asked. “Experiences, feelings.”

“Not mine, though.”

“No, specialist,” Liara agreed, “not your own. Now, tell us about them.”

“So many, though,” Traynor almost whined before gathering herself. Clambering to her feet, she moved to the chair and slumped to it, resting her elbows on her knees, fingertips rubbing at her temples. The others waited in silence, Shepard's quiet impatience obvious in how she was reflexively clenching and releasing her fists.

“Fear and despair,” Traynor said slowly. “Those are the most powerful feelings. She's...she's watching Thessia burn. Through a window on one of the few transports that did get away from the planet's surface, and then-”

The young woman's features twisted with a shudder. “Everything goes red, terror, and now she's trapped in a glass tube. She doesn't know where. All she can see is a marauder standing in front of her. After that... this litany in my head. Pain, horror, grief. She can see other asari trapped like she is on the other side of a room. Some are screaming, pounding. Some are curled into balls, weeping. One of them has clawed so much that her fingers are leaving bloody streaks across the glass. And she,” Traynor indicated the asari on the bed nearby, “she wanted her mother.”

Then, Traynor's eyes glazed over slightly. “Nenna.” A pause. “That's what her mother called her. Nenna. Her mother put her on the transport, promised to be on the one coming right behind their own. Whispered into her ear, 'be strong my Nenna'. Closed the shuttle hatch and that's the last she saw of her.” 

Another shudder racked the specialist. “She spent a lot of time begging her mother to save her, the rest of the time asking for forgiveness because she didn't think she could be strong anymore. “

Traynor fell silent, hugging herself slightly.

The listeners glanced at each other. Though years gone, the horrors of The Reaper War were stories they were familiar with in one way or the other. 

“Traynor, did, uh...Nenna...have any idea what the Reaper's were doing? Why they wanted all these asari?” Shepard asked gently.

The other woman stopped rocking with a grimace. “No,” she said after a time. “Not at first. All...all I can stand...” Traynor gasped, then grit her teeth. Strangling sounds came from between lips, pressed together so tightly that the blood was drained from them. 

Liara moved to intervene, but the other woman thrust out a hand. “No!” she commanded, “don't...I...” Her features relaxed, she took a deep breath, and said, “Needles. Drugs...moments of consciousness and pain separated by darkness. One moment in the tube, the next strapped to a table, and she can see metal arms moving around her, arms that end in blades that are dripping...dripping...dripping with blood, her blood, but she can't, she doesn't...she can't feel anything.”

Traynor rubbed at her eyes with the palm of one hand. “And the same memory, or... things... half thought, half experience. She keeps looking down at herself and when she does- God, terror. Just terror...like red thunder, sheets of red pound at her, at me, she's staring at her hands and- God!”

She fell silent, her forearms resting on her knees as she stared at the palms of her own hands. No one said anything, giving the young woman space, time, moments to finish what she had begun. There was no solace that could be offered, no way to undo harm, unmake events.... so they waited. 

Traynor took a deep breath, watching tears shatter on her skin, watching how the tiny imperfections and blemishes of her palms made it impossible to predict which way the droplets would flow, or how some of the smaller motes would cling to the sides of her hands in defiance of gravity. 

“Every time she woke up, there were fewer asari in the other tubes...and...” The specialist's expression creased, her eyebrows knitted in concentration, “once...I think once...she saw an asari being taken away. The one who had been imprisoned next to her. She was...she was blank. Shuffling away, escorted by her own marauder. I knocked- I mean, Nenna knocked on the glass and the other asari looked at her...looked through her. There wasn't anything left. That's when we...she...Nenna...started praying to the Goddess to let her die. I can feel her prayers, whispered in the dark. She wanted it, ached for it, pleading with every piece of faith for everything just to stop.”

Traynor laughed bitterly through a mask of tears. “That obviously didn't happen,” she said, wiping away a rivulet of snot with the back of her hand.

“I think that's enough-” Liara began, but again, the young woman cut her off. 

“I can finish,” Traynor insisted. She placed her hands on her lap, and everyone pretended not to notice how badly they were shaking. “I have to finish, I ...I have to get them out, get the...stuff Nenna put in my head out!”

Shepard shifted her weight awkwardly, shoving away her impatience in a old and familiar inner conflict. “Go ahead, crewman,” she said on instinct. “You're doing fine.”

Traynor shot her a grateful half-smile. “Aye, ma'am,” she said, seeming to take strength from the routine of subordinate to superior. She took a breath then another and, clenching her fists, continued, “It's dark, she's sleeping and she hears humming, it's a song she's familiar with- she'd heard it before in vids, so she opens her eyes. Hope, she...Nenna...felt hope because as she woke up someone was holding her, cradling her head and humming that gentle song. Just for a moment...” Traynor retched suddenly, lunging off her chair she grabbed the waste bucket, stomach heaving. Dry wracking coughs echoed through the infirmary as the young woman's empty stomach attempted to dredge up remnants of its last meal. 

Liara moved to stand. “Don't!” Traynor commanded, gasping. She wiped at her mouth with the back of one fist. “Going to get it out...have to. Where ...where was I?”

Hesitantly, Liara said, “Nenna could hear a song.”

“Oh,” Traynor said, and her eyes glazed over. Shepard's breath hissed between bared teeth. Then, in a flat voice, Tryanor recited, “Nenna looks- looked up; she was being held. Embraced. It was so warm, and she looks up to what she thinks is her savior, that the goddess has found her and the monsters are gone. For a moment, she imagines she'll see her mother and everything will be alright. Everything will be all right again. Then she opens her eyes. Then she sees.”

Traynor's body was wracked with a fierce shudder, “The asari she has...had seen earlier, the blank one is looking down at her, smiling at her...humming to her... Nenna can see black eyes looking down at her, and the other asari is smiling. She's smiling and says...and she says...” The specialist's blank gaze flicked off like a switch. Her eyes, now horribly aware, caught Liara's.

“She said, 'Embrace Eternity'.”

Traynor's eyes rolled back, and she sagged sideways out of the chair. Shepard lunged forward and barely caught her before the young woman hit the ground. 

“Get her-” Liara's voice rang out.

At the same time, Shepard shouted, “EDI I need a full-”

And both froze, their words caught in their throats as a tiny, tiny voice, like that of a child's, keened out of the other wise unresponsive Traynor, still being held by Shepard. “Mother,” the voice said. “Mother she's...they're inside me, Mother. She's inside me, inside my mind. Make her get out, Mother...they're riding her. They're coming in with her. Mother...Mama? I can't...I can't...I can't...”

“No!” Shepard roared, her attention focused to Liara, “can't you do something?” 

Her asari only had time to shake her head when- 

“Mama, I think I'm gonna have a baby.”

Then there was an awful silence, heavy, pressing down on Shepard's chest. The specialist shuddered in her arms, eyelids flickering. A moment, another, and then Traynor eyes flickered back into focus. Groaning, she held a hand to her forehead. “Never thought I'd miss hangovers,” the younger woman mumbled. 

“Traynor? You back with us?” Shepard asked.

The young woman's eyes gazed around the room. For a brief moment, she looked at each of them - first up at Shepard, who still held her. Then, her gaze swept past Liara and, after lingering for a moment, moved on to Garrus. Finally, she stared at the bed where the patient still lay, unconscious, oblivious...innocent. 

“Commander,” Traynor said slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully, “please let me up.”

“That might not be wise,” Liara said. “You have been through-”

Traynor raised a hand, cutting off the other woman. “I'm fine. Please, Commander, let me up. She'll be waking up soon, she'll be needing someone.”

Without much apparent effort, Shepard placed the specialist back on her feet, helping her maintain her balance with a firm grip on her shoulders. “You alright?”

Traynor nodded wearily. “Yes...I … excuse me for-” She brushed Shepard's hands aside and moved next to the bed where, still asleep, lay the young asari called Nenna. Without paying the rest of them any attention Traynor pulled a chair beside the bed, sat down, and took one of the patient's hands between her own.

Garrus spoke first. “That was...fairly horrible.”

“She bounced back quick,” Shepard added. “She really going to be okay?” 

Liara was hugging herself, a slight shifting of her weight from one foot to the other the only indication of any discomfort. “I do not know. The type of bond 'Nenna' thrust upon the specialist is a defensive gesture. An attempt to overwhelm an enemy so as to flee. It is from ancient asari history, a throwback- like a modern soldier blindly grabbing a rock as an improvised weapon. Savage.”

“Bash someone with a rock, and they're probably not going to be all right,” Garrus replied. “This is a bit more vague.”

Liara could only shrug. “She seems all right for the moment. Perhaps I can find a contact through my network. In the meantime, all I can suggest is keeping an eye on her.”

 

“And what about this breeding program?” Garrus added, pressing on despite Liara's shudder. “It doesn't make any sense because, and correct me here if I'm wrong, but The Reapers were very big on the whole galactic genocide thing. Breeding a species they're trying to slaughter outright seems a bit counter-productive.”

A sick feeling settled in Shepard's stomach. Memories flashed, a monastery, the enemy, two daughters, terrible but necessary choices. Shepard breathed, “Ardat Yakshi.”

Garrus got it. “Oh,” he said. “Oh shit.”

“No,” Liara said firmly, “that is not- I cannot believe-”

“It makes sense,” Garrus insisted. “The Reapers can't just turn any asari into those screaming shock troops. They had to be Ardat Yakshi. So that means this base was not a breeding camp....”

“It was a weapons factory,” Shepard finished.

“But why?” Liara cried, “Why would Black Hand be here?”

Shepard gritted her teeth as conclusions leaped into her mind, part of her hating how they came so easily, so matter-of-factly as they were the best possible solutions based on tactics and strategy. “Two...two possibilities,” she hedged. “Either the asari government knows about this place and Black Hand is acting as wardens or...you said Black Hand is inspired by that asari supremacist, right? What if Black Hand found this place... perhaps they want to,” she shuddered. “Liara, I'm sorry, but what if they want to continue The Reapers' work?”

Garrus stared across the room at Nenna and her guardian, his eyes flat and unblinking. “That would explain why the pregnancies have not been terminated and the prisoners released.”

No one said anything for a time, their thoughts spiraling off each on their own, compounding horror upon horror. Logic, strategy, the circumstances, the facts, added up to a thing of nightmare. 

“Excuse me,” Liara said in quiet, calm voice. “I have to go.” She was not two steps out the door before a halo of biotic fury had snapped around her like a second, snarling skin of blue rage. Shepard moved to pursue when Nenna came awake with a shriek.

“You can't have her!” were the words shrieked across the medbay as young asari came off the bed. She stared around wildly, caught one look at Traynor, paralyzed by the sudden noise, and her blue lips curled back in a snarl. “No one hurts her,” she gurgled, her words choked off by rage. One hand came up in a claw, wreathed in blue fire to strike. Seeming to teleport across the room, Garrus leaped forward, grabbed the asari's wrist, and slammed it down. 

“Shepard!” he cried, “her other hand!” He was using both arms to hold the young asari down. 

Traynor was holding on now, but the patient possessed a bezerker's strength, and was tossing the young woman around like a rag doll. Shepard grabbed the asari's other wrist, adding her strength to Traynor's and between the two of them, they were able to pin Nenna's arm down as well. 

“Get off of me!” screamed the asari, “Don't- you can't- I won't let you!” and other protests were torn from the woman's throat as she bucked and heaved, trying to free herself, trying to fight, trying to protect her child.

“Nenna!” Traynor cried. “Nenna, stop! You're safe, we won't harm you!” but her words fell on ears deafened by fear and rage until, “you're going to hurt the baby!”

Nenna's gaze snapped to Traynor's face. “Sammy?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “But I thought... I didn't mean... you weren't real...it was just a dream.” Her rage melted away, and the young asari's eyes teared over, great wracking sobs now replacing her anger. “Oh goddess, what have I done? I'm so-sorry.” Further apologies were interrupted by fresh cries from the asari.

“Huh,” Garrus said, still carefully restraining one arm, “she seems apologetic.”

“Nenna, I'm all right,” Traynor spoke in a hushed voice, her fingertips gently touching the other woman's face. “I'm all right.” Over and over, she repeated herself. Shepard sat back, staying quiet, holding onto Nenna's other arm, her grip only slightly relaxed. 

“Commander, Operative Lawson reports a disturbance in shutt-” EDI began, but her words were cut off by the woman herself. 

“Shepard!” Miranda's snapped, “get down here, Liara is trying to punch a hole in the ship!”

Shepard glanced at Garrus. “Get going,” he rumbled. “Traynor and I got this.”

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Shepard impatiently slapped the 'door open' command, which ignored her. With a snarl, she stepped back from the console as the elevator, unconcerned with any imminent danger, proceeded to descend to the shuttle bay at its own leisurely pace. With a quiet hiss, the door slid open, and Shepard launching herself into the gap with only a hairsbreadth of space. A few crew members were in quiet groups near the back of the shuttle bay, staring at the far end where a deep, ugly bruise colored light was swelling, drowning out the usual glow from the various holographic terminals situated around the room. 

“Cortez!” Shepard hissed. 

“Here, ma'am.” The pilot pushed his way through the small crowd. 

“What's going on?”

“It's Ms T'Soni, ma'am. She came down her a few moments ago, carrying a very obvious 'do not fuck with me' air about her.”

Shepard glanced to the back of the shuttle bay. The dull light grew a blue tinge, and tendrils of power began to crawl alone the crates stacked against the well; the creak of stressed metal echoed. The dark light also somehow obscured any sign of Liara herself.

“And?” she asked.

The pilot could only shrug apologetically. “What could I do, ma'am? I got the hell out of her way. If James was here, he might have been dumb enough to talk to her.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow, but let the thought pass. “Then what?”

Glancing himself at the still growing un-light and the increasing volume of crashing noises, Cortez replied, “Then she moved back there and-”

There was a loud bang.

“Well...that. I got Ms. Lawson on the line and here you are.”

Shepard nodded. “Give me the room.”

“Aye, aye.” Cortez turned to the rest of the crew, cupped his mouth, and shouted, “Listen up, Commander wants the room, people! Let's go get some coffee. Move it!”

In a few moments, Shepard was alone in the bay.

“Liara?” she called in a hushed voice. The blue light surged bright for a brief moment, then settled back to a darkening hue. 

She moved slowly toward the front of the shuttle bay, and as she set her foot down on the plating of the floor, tiny arcs of power surged over her armor, almost questing about. In a few more steps, she could make out another figure. Her asari stood still, her feet spread apart, one hand flung outward, fingers apart while with her other she kept wiping away tears that ran freely. Shepard hissed a breath between her teeth when she noted the biotic energy embracing Liara's hand as she used it to wipe her face, leaving arcing trails of fury to seethe, apparently harmlessly, across her face. It made her appear to be weeping lightning. 

Hovering in front of Liara, surrounded by a nimbus of shadowy light, was a cargo crate the half the size of a Kodiak shuttle-craft. It whipped through the air in a tight orbit around the black sphere of a singularity, glistening with the reverse side of reality and snarls of white power running across its surface. 

With part of her mind screaming at her that she was either brain dead or suicidal, Shepard stepped up behind her asari and embraced her from behind. Liara stiffened in her grip, but other than that, had no further reaction. Glancing at Liara's profile, starkly lit by the convocation of light and shadow, Shepard saw her grit her teeth tightly. In response, the singularity swelled in size and sucked the crate into it, where it began to spin so quickly that it soon became just a large blur. 

“You know,” Shepard said carefully, softly into Liara's ear, “in a crazy kind of way I felt...believe it or not...a tiny bit sorry for The Reapers.”

Power surged, the hair on her neck tingled.

“Here are these amazing examples of technology,” she went on, “with lifetimes of literal stars, and they're trapped in their cycle of mass murder. They really were just as stuck as we were, in a sick kind of way. Any possibility for real choice on their part was long, long gone.”

Liara wiped away at her eyes again, and a bolt of fury sizzled down one arching curve of her cheek, flowing like quicksilver. 

“But this,” Shepard murmured, pushing more of herself against her asari, “this is your people, isn't it? Right after the war, so many are dead, and here you've learned that some of them are doing just what The Reapers did...expect they made this choice. Right now.”

Liara sniffed. Her throat worked, and the strangled half sob rang in Shepard's ears despite all the sound of biotic storm they were both in the heart of. “Do- do you know h-how many were left?” Liara asked. “How many survived?”

Shepard shook her head.

“Forty-three percent, and of the matriarchs, less than ten.”

In the nimbus of the singularity, the spinning crate accelerated. "So few of us left, Shepard. And this... Matriarch,” Liara spat the word, “one of our last...doing this...to us!”

The air around the crate began to howl.

“And she seems so proud of herself.”

The edges grew a dull red.

“She-she's going to try and kill you.”

The howling of tortured air and metal grew to a roar.

“Try and kill us all, take back what she feels is her possession; the child. The children.”

Lightning arced along the blur where the crate spun, the edges of the friction heated metal glowing in a counterpoint to the blue fury. Flashes so bright they seared through her eyelids when Shepard blinked. Metal howled, crackling anger expressed in a display of biotic power fueled by grief, pain, outrage and a need for vengeance so powerful that reality was being warped. 

The perfect storm.

She could almost imagine it, her lips pulled back in a fierce grin, spinning her asari around, mashing her lips to Liara's; a compulsion born of mutual rage and desire- violence and sex- and it would have been so right. The matriarch of Black Hand deserved killing; a good killing, a righteous killing. The prehistoric bitch stood, not only for something thrust upon the universe born of ancient nightmares, but for one of the oldest false passions of all sentient life: 

That they were better than others, and any and all actions to prove that upon the bodies and souls of all others was justified.

And she and Liara would embrace the chance to put these wrong things right- unleashing a power upon Black Hand that would scar the planetoid itself. The two of them, together, leaping right into the jaws of death with no intention of compromise, no plans for peace, no concern for the victims. The two of them, fury and fire, biotic and bullets; totally committed to avenging the lost by killing the guilty as hard and as painfully as possible. 

A lot

It would be glorious, a tiny but hungry part of Shepard's mind told her.

But...

Shepard stretchered out her hand and placed it gently on Liara's extended forearm, linking her fingers between Liara's where her asari was still projecting her power to the now hopelessly slagged crate. 

“Liara, I-”

“I will not remain behind, Shepard!” she said, her tone a rebuke.

“Wasn't even thinking it,” her human assured, squeezing their interlocked fingers. “But don't...

“Don't?”

“Don't get lost,” Shepard's tone was plaintive. “You... fuck!” The Commander sighed, her breath hissing from between her teeth. “It was you, I told you already. You were what I heard, what brought me back.”

Liara's hushed voice, despite the cacophony, was easily heard. “I know.”

“Then we're thrown into this...situation... and I find you down here rewriting reality. So...angry.”

“Do not try to stop me, Shepard. They have to-”

“And you should be,” Shepard interrupted. “We both should be; everything that's going on, that already happened. God knows we deserve to be at least furious. Just be careful. It's really, really easy to get lost in it. Righteousness, hate... they're so easy. They burn." Shepard's eyes were drawn to the display of Liara's anger ripping the space in front of them into tiny pieces.

“But they'll burn you back,” she finished lamely. “I wouldn't... I wouldn't want that.”

Shepard swallowed slightly, “Liara...do you remember how you felt...when I died?”

Her asari shuddered. “Why-?”

“And when we were separated after I had to detonate the Alpha relay?”

A fresh surge of power lanced between Liara's outstretched hands.

“And on top of that, your fear right before the final attack on Earth? In that room? Your gift?”

“Why are you doing this?” Liara choked out.

The Commander closed her eyes, pressing on grimly. “Then you find me, I'm still alive, or so you thought. For two years you waited, and I'm fine. We're both fine...and they take it away from us. Again.”

“Please...please stop this, Shepard!”

“Do you remember? Say it, Liara. Do you remember?” Her words came out harsh, between lips pulled back over bared teeth. 

“Yes! Yes! Of course I do! And now...now on top of what's happening right now? Why...why-”

Shepard gently kissed the side of Liara's neck, a brush, a mere touching of flesh to skin. “That's how I feel. Every moment. All the time, Liara. But I don't lose myself to it. I can't. I won't. Because it would cost me you.”

The enraged biotic shook her head, “N-no, that would never- I would never-”

“I know, Liara,” Shepard shushed, “But I'd throw myself into a fight I couldn't win and I'd lose you. Or be captured, or arrested, and lose you, or just get so lost in my own hate that I'd become something else and while you'd stay- I'd still lose you. And that's what I don't want you to do; to get lost in the rage.”

Her asari swallowed a sob and, lowering her arms, turned in the embrace. Shepard ran her thumb across one blue, tear stained cheek, wiping away the tears, ignoring the slight tingle as biotic energy arced from the tear to her hand.

They were still, the two of them. 

Around the two lovers, blue lightning played merry hell with an innocent cargo crate, dancing along its crevices as the singularity still trapped it in midair and spun it about like a giant penny flicked by the hand of a god. 

“I...I am okay, Shepard,” Liara said.

Her asari took a deep breath, pulling the air in slowly through her nose and letting herself relax into the exhalation rather than force the breath out. She repeated the action a second time, then a third before saying:

“I will be there with you despite the matriarchs' insistence that you come alone.”

“Yes.”

The crate's maddening spin began to slow.

“And we will do what needs to be done.”

“Yes.”

The roar of warring biotics quieted down to a mild buzz.

“But no more than that.”

“Yes.”

The crate now hung in midair, still and silent, the only hint of power now the dim sapphire halo surrounding it and the fact that it was ignoring gravity. 

“I love you.”

“Yes.”

The cooling metal pinged.

“And you love me.”

“Yes.”

The buzz fell away to an almost inaudible humming, the biotic flames embracing her asari likewise dimming. 

“Then-” Liara clenched her fist. Metal screamed as the nearly dormant singularity surged. Its gravity well drew the crate in and squeezed! What had been a crate a meter in length and half that is height hit the deck with a heavy thud. It was the size of a crushed beer can. Liara turned in the embrace and rested her chin on Shepard's shoulder, pulling her Commander against her with her own arms. “- we had best get started.”

Her asari pulled away and took a moment to look at her human. In an impulsive gesture, she leaned in and gave Shepard a simple kiss on one cheek before stepping around her and moving toward the elevator. Then, she paused, looking back at Shepard over one shoulder.

“You coming?”

 

*  
*  
*  
*

The doors to the elevator hissed open. EDI stood in the middle of the car at a parade rest and acknowledged Shepard and Liara with a nod. “Commander, Liara.”

“Was on my way to find you, EDI,” Shepard replied. “Have a couple of questions for you. I need some information about this facility's capabilities.”

“Certainly, Commander. What is it you wish to know?”

Shepard told the AI.

After a microsecond of hesitation, EDI replied, “That is feasible, though how you'll justify it to Joker....”

Shepard waved the objection off. “He'll love it,” she said matter-of-factly. 

EDI remained silent for a moment before asking, “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, do you have enough information on planetary conditions to give me a reliable weather report for around sunset?” Shepard ignored Liara's raised eyebrow.

Again, EDI's pause was noticeable. “I believe so, Commander.”

Shepard grinned.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The hologram of body armor spun a lazy three hundred and sixty degrees, the glow painting her skin a dull orange. 

She didn't see it.

Staring through the data, she could only feel. Feel the questions burning within, the anxiety. The bone deadening weariness of putting the bold front forward, for Traynor, for Liara- so they would have the strength to go on because she was pushing them...and who would be there to support-

Shepard shook her head and shoved the thoughts down, down into a deep box that she then tried to bury. Resuming her focus, she selected the specifications she wanted and sent the order down to the armory. There was just enough time for a quick shower before the scheduled departure. Stepping toward the facilities, she reviewed her mental checklist as she pulled her jacket off over her head, not bothering to unbutton it properly. 

She had informed the squad of her plan. 

The slacks hit the floor.

Chosen her custom ammo.

She stepped out of her underwear.

Gotten the information she needed and altered her strategy.

A careless toss sent the bra skidding across her desk.

Assigned tasks and drilled everyone involved regarding the mission parameters.

The shower door hissed open, and the water came on automatically. She set one foot across the threshold, her skin almost tingling in anticipation of the release hot water would bring.

“Shepard.”

The small pistol was swept off the soap dish in a flash and she spun, trigger finger already tightening- and froze.

If it wasn't for the fact that everything below his knees was the surface of her bed, she would have thought he was really there. Despite the strange location, he still held a cigarette in one hand. The smoke from the glowing tip coiled lazily about his head before dissipating. 

“I seem to have caught you at a bad time, I apologize,” the image of The Illusive Man said.

Shepard replaced the pistol in its place without taking her eyes off him. Then, grabbing a towel off the hook, she covered herself while stepping down the stares.

“What do you want, Harvey?” she asked, sitting on the sofa.

“To answer your question,” the image responded.

“My question? What makes you think I have one? Unless you lied about not being able to access my thoughts.”

Walking through the bed, the image appeared to sit down on a small leg rest across from Shepard. 

“No, I can't, that was no lie. However, I do have a complete profile on your behavior, and what you see, I see - in addition to constant readings on your biology. Your biochemistry has been flooded with anxiety related hormones since this afternoon."

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. “I had to kill someone. It's been a while, that's all.”

The Illusive Man waved the answer aside. “Chronologically, yes, but not from your perspective.”

“So, what's my question?”

It curled one lip slightly. “How did you know the asari was coming.”

Shepard almost held back the shiver. Almost, but not quite.

The image of The Illusive Man stood up and made a show of examining the models in the display case. “When we first...well.. I suppose 'met' will have to do, I informed you of some of the changes that have occurred in your make-up. To summarize, you are simply more aware. Your mind is more adept at receiving and analyzing environmental data. All sentient minds have this capacity to degrees- walking into a room and having an idea of the mood of the occupants is one part contextual, say, a doctor's office or a birthday party, and another part environmental clues on a very subtle level. You receive the same information, but now it is a bit more,” he paused, “insistent.” 

Shepard snorted. “Are you saying 'super senses' in technobabble?”

The hologram poked a finger through the glass case and appeared to be running it along the length of the model of Sovereign. “No. I'm saying you are still fully human...just plus. The same can be said of your physical abilities.”

“What about them?”

Its focus moved on to a turian cruiser. “To use your colloquialisms, you have no super-strength or super-speed. However, most sentient life is capable of great physical abilities, yet, to utilize these would cause damage of varying degrees, from muscle strain, torn tendons, all the way up to fatal effects. To prevent this...for lack of a better term that would not be taken as 'technobabble' … there exists a governor of sorts. Or a cut out switch if you like. Only extreme duress or stress supersedes it. People who have moved cars to rescue loved ones, the berserkers of ancient earth, who suffered mortal and incapacitating wounds and yet still fought on.”

“And what The Reapers did shut that off?” Shepard asked.

“No, the Cerberus upgrades did that. The Reaper enhancements just pushed it back further, along with endo-skeletal and intramuscular support.”

“I...I don't understand.”

Finished with its examination of the models, The Copy of the Illusive Man's Image stepped through the model display and the sofa, moving to stand in front of the wall sized aquarium. The blue, shifting light passed through him unimpeded, and he cast no shadow on the floor. “The nanobots will repair the minor damage of daily use and exaggerated use nearly instantly. Monomolecular mesh has been interwoven through nearly every part of your skeleton and internal organs. This acts as both a conduit for the 'bots and as a bracing structure from the normal damage that would ensue. Simply put, Commander, you don't bruise easily.”

Shepard did not reply. She laid back on the sofa and passed her hand across her face.

“That being said,” the image went on, “you are still very, very human.”

“Shut...” Shepard began. Her voice failed her, and she swallowed to find the moisture to speak, “Shut the fuck up.”

“My point exactly,” It replied. “Only someone as human as you would have such a strong reaction to the fear they no longer were.”

Shepard was on her feet and standing in front It in less than the blink of an eye, lips curled in a snarl and a fist clenched ready to let fly- and paused. It locked eyes with her, the cybernetic eyes boring into hers, and without looking away, it raised a hand with deliberate slowness, took an extra long pull on its cigarette- the cherry glowed bright enough to sting her eyes- and exhaled twin plumes out its nose. Then, in a conversational tone, it said:

“You just got to your feet and crossed four meters of space in less than a quarter of a second.”

Her fist trembled. It wouldn't stop, she couldn't make it stop. “And- and you're saying a lot of people could do that?”

It pursed its lips. “More or less, if suitably motivated. Though they would, in all likelihood, separate every muscle from their knees, or equivalent organs, shred tendons around every major joint and possibly cripple themselves for the rest of their lives. By the way, how are you feeling?”

Shepard lowered her arm and let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “Fine.”

It smiled. 

She had to restrain herself from trying to hit it.

Turning away, it settled on one end of the sofa, a holograph of a glass of whiskey materializing on the table in front of it. “Anything else you want to know?”

Shepard appeared not to have heard. She was looking down at her hands, studying them as if she'd never seen them before; rhythmically, she clenched them into fists and then opened them again. First the left hand, then right, back to left, right, left right....she stopped. “How do I control it? Them?”

“You already are.”

And she hated it. She hated it with a great black sourness that ran through her like contagion. It burned through her, a stream of hate bubbling from some great pit that was inside and around her all at the same time. She hated it like nothing else she had ever known. Her breath hissed from between clenched teeth.

“If I could find a knife sharp enough,” she choked out, ignoring the flecks of spittle that arced from her mouth, “I'd cut you out in a heart beat.”

If it was offended, it didn't look it. “Why? I've done nothing. You know as well as I do what my purpose is- to monitor and maintain the function of your additions.”

“You also said that there's more you don't know.”

It held up a finger. “I don't know yet.”

“It could mean anything! You could be indoctrinating me from the inside. I could be a time bomb, ready to go off and take everything I love with me. Why wouldn't I hate you for that?” she slumped back, her shoulders hit the glass of the aquarium, and she slid down it, unresisting until her butt hit the floor. Her head slumped onto her knees. “I should have let them fucking vivisect me.”

And now The Image of the Illusive Man was sitting beside her. She hadn’t seen it move across the intervening space. Being in her head, she supposed it didn't have to. It was examining the tip of its cigarette, appearing fascinated by it. “The full capabilities of my own function I am not yet sure of, Shepard,” It said. “But this much I do know- Harbinger did this to you, to us, for a reason.”

“Revenge.”

It shook its head. “No. What you know of The Reapers should tell you enough that they-”

“You. You're one of them,” she insisted.

It mulled that over. “Perhaps,” It conceded with a shrug. “But we, or they, did not operate in that manner,” a pause, “Commander, you're going to have to trust me.”

“Like hell,” Shepard snorted.

“We'll leave that, then," It said, “Now, if I may, I have a question.”

“Who's Harvey?”

Shepard did not smile at the flicker of surprise on the Hologram's face, but it was a near thing. She contented herself with enjoying the minor victory internally. 'Right next to the nanowire,' a nasty voice hissed in her mind.

“Yes,” It said, sounding puzzled.

“Harvey is a character from a movie I like,” she said.

“One of your heroes?”

“He's a six foot rabbit that may or may not be real, that may or may not be a symptom of insanity of a man who may or may not be insane or may or may not be the sanest person who ever lived,” she chuckled. “I think I know the feeling.”

“Do you want me to appear as a six foot rabbit?” It asked dubiously.

“Lord, no,” Shepard said, standing up. She looked down at It, still sitting at the base of the aquarium. “I like rabbits.”

Again, It appeared puzzled. “Then why call me that?”

It was Shepard's turn to take a moment to think. Had it been a jibe? An attempt at insult? Reference to something of comfort to deal with this...thing? She didn't know, not yet, but an answer occurred to her. She climbed the few stairs to the door of her quarters, which hissed opened obligingly at her approach. “Irony,” she tossed over her shoulder.

 

END- Iris Four

 

AN: So. Whaddya think? Worth the wait? Massive thanks go out to my beta Rae D. Magdon who smoothed this out like a pro. Wait, why are you reading this? Leave some feedback and then go read Rae's stuff. It's epic.


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